


Sorcha

by Soloh



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, a bit of stardust, a wink to david eddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:05:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soloh/pseuds/Soloh
Summary: Jamie was the child of the sun who looks to the stars for salvation.





	1. Prologue

As a boy, Jamie would often ask his mother to tell him the story of how he came to be. Of how she met his father.

“Again?” Ellen asked, as she put her son to bed.

“Aye, mam please?”

Told so many times he could recite the whole of it from memory, but it was the way his mother seemed to come alight like the fire of the man who he had never met, that the story truly came to life.

His mother would smile and look briefly above in silent, unspoken communion.

“Alright, my wee one,” she would say, taking her place at his bedside.

“It was a day like no other…”

 

 

______

 

_The sky was darkened, devoid of sun and stars._

_Forests and mountains, oceans and skies, the animals they sheltered waited in hidden silence. For all thought the world had come to it’s final breath._

_The old were left to wail in despair, to fall to their knees in desperate repentance and the young to scream in fevered panic, reaching for their mothers to only grasp air._

_But Ellen stood tall and brave for she was able to see the sun itself was a flesh and blood man, bursting with radiance that was casted upon her so she too was as brilliant as he._

_He, whose face was ancient perfection, eyes and hair as dark as the veil of night that was all consuming, with lips forever curled in unending delight, beckoning her to him._

 

 

“And what did he come for?” Jamie would ask, sitting up from his bed, anxious and wide eyed for the answer he already knew. His mother would gently press him back to the bed and smooth his crimson locks, astray like a wee highland coo, atop his head.

“For me,” she replied, face full of love in remembrance.

 

 

_The sun had fallen from the vale of endless heavens above to their land not in an act of malice but out of grief so unrelenting. He had fallen in love with a mortal, a love that could never be. A truth that caused his immortal heart to seize with the cold rush of death. If he could not touch her he would surely die along with all of creation. So the sun came to the very being of his marrow as a man in an act of humility. To ask that may she direct her gaze upon him, to have the feel of her hands caress his skin, to bestow him with a kiss to take back to his lonely existence._

_“Is that all ye desire?” Ellen seemed amused of his infatuation even though her own feelings seemed to grow and surge deep within. The world of chaos around them fell deaf to their beating hearts that flooded their ears and pulsed with light through their chests._

_“Yes, my love. All I will ever ask of you.” His voice like a hymn to her soul that caressed her to the very bone._

_“What shall I receive in return?”_

_“If you wish, a piece of me. A ray of my love for you to have untill we meet again if you like.”_

_There was no doubt in Ellen’s mind when she walked to him and stared into his eyes that held unimaginable skies and stars bursting with radiant realities unknown to her. No fear in being burned to ash when she stroked his golden face down to his lips so soft. Her fingers, worn and cracked from work she thought the mere act would bruise him._

_And when she kissed him she knew nothing but the unbridled passion that was engulfing him, stealing the life from him as it was to her now._

_And when they parted, all that Ellen remembered was his embrace that lit her body aflame yet left no mark on her skin._

_Not until her stomach began to swell._

 

 

“That was me. I was the ray.” It was a whispered statement of a child nearly off to the land of dreams where his father would hold him close and carry his troubles away.

“Yes, mo bheannachd.” His mother would say as she pressed her lips to this brow, in marvel of all that he was, “That ye are.”

 

_____

 

It was a grand story befitting a mother so wonderful in Jamie’s eyes. That their life of struggles could be changed in an instant, as quick as a kiss.

But as he grew older the story was taunted as just a wild tale spun by an unwed woman to her bastard son.

No chariots of fire to carry them away.

No man in the clouds to welcome them home.

No longer did he give his faith in promises made of cinders that singed and blistered. All alone they were to be. Abandoned for years to be poor and dastardly poor at that.

So to the stars in hopeless pleas did Jamie beg and pray.

 

And then…

 

Jamie was at his mother’s side, on their knees amongst shriveled plants that barely broke the surface of dirt. Another failed crop.

No tears stained his mother’s face, only bitterness of fruitless labor unrewarded.

Jamie in a fury, for he, but most of all his mother, clawed his hands into the soil, hard and harsh, tearing the skin of his fingertips near raw, searching. Searching for damn near anything to feed them.

And that’s when he felt it. Like a vibe of crackling, white lightning, that coursed through his veins.

The twisted, depleted roots that crumbled in his hands, coiled around him with renewed strength. Growing and thriving in greens and yellows and every shade of life that could sprout.

Mother and son, side by side, in awe of all the bounty that filled their vision. No longer would they ache from hunger.

She praised the sun for the blessings promised and Jamie….Jamie no longer lifted his head in wonder to the man above for salvation, though his blood carried his influence, that was clear to his eyes and the lingering sting of it beneath his skin.

He knew where his prayer had been heard and answered and thanked his lucky star who shined brighter then all the rest.

 


	2. Chapter 1

 

  
In all of James Fraser's nineteen years he could recall exactly how many days of sunshine he had seen.

How many times his mother's nose was reddened and freckled from it's bite. How they escaped the heat in pools of chilly water that turned them head to toe blue and wrinkled like newborns.

On the days, ones particular in brightly warmth, Jamie would wonder if his father were happy.

Did he too like to watch the flicker of colors shine along the scales of trout as they made their way downstream?

Did he find great delight in his silver coated cheetie Adso, in serious mortal combat with his tail?

Or had his gaze fallen on his mother, hair loose from it's pins in soft waves of crimson gold as she brushed away, lost in dreamy contentment?

On cloudy days dense with fog that shrouded all that lay outside his doorstep or ones filled with thunder so resounding Jamie could feel his teeth rattle, he was sure his father was upset with him.

Was it when he spilled their meager amount of milk on the floors?

When he'd forgotten to latch the door to the chicken coop allowing for their only two birds to flee?

Or maybe it was the many times Jamie used his fists, knees, elbows and all he had on the local boys, whose tongues of bitter spittle were too much to ignore.

What frustrated Jamie was that his mother had no answers when questioned. Only blind faith in her love and the world touched by him. Yet, he could see the waver in her spirit every year that passed, as the lines around her eyes grew slowly deeper with somber defeat until that day in the fields revitalized her anew with blessings of her unwavering devotion.

It only infuriated Jamie more.

Why would his father deny his presence in their lives.

Why wait so long to make Jamie's gift known, a gift where life sprouted from his hands that he still found startling to fathom.

Even now, he could see the shape of it hidden amongst the clouds as a hazy, distant obstruction, it's ray's stubbornly turned away from him in abandonment

That's why Jamie had settled on a plan of action put into motion with a letter.

  
______

  
Presently

Jamie was walking from the cowshed, a gleam of sweat covered his face and trickled down his neck that he swiped with the cuff of his sleeve. He carried a bucket of fresh warm milk in his hands, the snowy liquid swished along the rim teasing poor Adso, who followed in hungry anticipation, careful of his masters heavy tread.

Three days of blazing sun had passed now.

The flowers bloomed full and bright, their fragrance filling the air of sweetly spring, birdsong was no longer a whisper on the wind but a joyful chorus and the branches of the trees stretched out in a canopy to bathe in sunlight. The life around Jamie seemed to sing in a glowing hum of praise at such a rarity, and he too couldn't help but smile, despite himself.

Jamie's vision caught a glint of light down the road and shielded his eyes to ascertain the source.

"Jamie!" The glint hollered.

"Goistidh!" Jamie called back in happy recognition, and deposited the bucket of milk on the fencepost to run to his godfather.

  
The man was a fellow kinsman, partial anyway. When Ellen's parents forced her from home when the signs of pregnancy became apparent. She was left destitute and wandered with not but her wits, but wits can only get you so far when you have a bairn growing to the size of a great gourd and making himself known in the most painful of ways.

Murtaugh was a vagabond Ellen had met at an inn she had found work in. She took an instant liking to the mans straight forward demeanor and his lack of judgment. For him, it was love. No one in a hundred miles could be so blind to the man's undying affections the moment he laid eyes on her, and she nearly socked him for gawking at first meeting.

A friendship formed of trust and true honesty of what laid in her womb, Murtaugh had given Ellen the sum that lined his pockets, all that an expectant mother could need, though it was like pulling teeth from a she-wolf to get her to accept. And unintentionally a name. Fraser.

Ellen, touched by his heart of sincerity and generosity, made the decision herself to drop the Mackenzie name that had shunned her and found the fitting of Fraser to her liking.

Now firmly family, Murtaugh would come now and then bearing 'treasures' for the two.

Jamie's favorites had been animals with funny names and faces, intricately carved out of cherry or oak wood. When older, a dirk of Jamie's very own, much to his delight. That soon failed in comparison to the fierce broadsword, two inches of broad double edged steel, with the hilt beautifully carved with interlaced knots on the grip, given at twelve years. Jamie saw it's significance and never drew it in foolishness of play or boasting. It was kept in it's scabbard, only drawn in lessons to wield the blade.

His mother received books, fat and thin of every and all things. Mysterious intrigue that thrilled, romance that left longing and drawn out sighs, tales of heroes from long ago (more a treat for Jamie), practically myths, and philosophy that could screw the mind to a bruising knot. And once, a sterling plated hair brush simply adorned of thistles that she would keep in a fine cloth sleeve in the back of her drawers.  
  
Their relationship, was one that never crossed the barriers of kinship but Jamie couldn't help his observations and his minds own inventions of the two.

"I dinna ken why ye go on as ye do with Murtaugh." Jamie had asked his mother while she was in a quiet mood of knitting. "Ye pay him more mind then any other suitor ye've had and there have been a few."

"I wouldna mind him much, but he's no' who I was meant for and it would be dishonest to give him my hand when I'm bound to another's, even one so far away." She smiled in quiet reply as she twisted the yarn into a loop.

"Yer not marritMam, not to him," Jamie spat, "Who ken's how many lasses he's found bonny -"

"Sàmhach." The smile vanished with a voice that was a low, sharp whisper and silenced Jamie mid sentence. She gripped the knitting needles tightly in her hands, that trembled slightly in response. "Ye may be tall as any man fer yer age but yer never too old for a strapping. Get ye to bed or get me the belt."

Jamie's mother had never raised a hand to him in all his years and the subject of marriage was never brought up again.

 

"Jamie lad! Och!" Murtaugh shook his head as Jamie came nearer, "I should be calling ye James now. Ye tower over me like yon oak tree." He took a moment to inspect the once wee sapling before embracing him with a hard slap on the back.

"Aye, take after Mam in that respect." Jamie said proudly.

"That ye do, the good parts of ye fer sure." Murtaugh's eyes softened long enough for Jamie to notice and went pink from cheek to ears and quickly looked upward for distraction and found it in the weather.

"It's been shining fearsome of late." Murtaugh grunted with a nod towards the sky.

"Aye, and I promise I willna question it." Jamie grinned at memories at incessant questions that would drive the man to deep gulps of liquor that caught in his beard.

"I prefer a brisk air from time to time, none of this damn jibber jabber of squawkers the light brings, but aye, tis nice." He relented with a shrug that allowed for the strap of his weatherd rucksack to slide down his arm, hastily tied closed and contents now left in partial view.

Jamie tilted his head to take a wee keek but hopes were quickly dashed by a pair of dirtied hands that moved the bag away from sight.

"Maybe ye are still a lad then."

"Curiosity never wanes, especially on a farm." Jamie laughed.

"Aye, but ye'll get yer hands strewn 'bout the fields if ye keep on as ye do. What I have willna spoil with time and I must be seein' yer mam."

"Ye should wash or she'll hand ye a tawsing and she's in a right place to do it."

"What ye mean?"

"She has a blade at the ready just now," Murtaugh raised his brows,his body stiff, "She shot a red stag this morning and is in a skinning mood." Jamie explained with a chuckle and his godfather's frame relaxed.

"Ellen was always good with a bow and a fine eye about her," he smiled fondly and patted his flat stomach. "Even so I'll take my chances, I'm right near starved."

They headed down to the cottage, followed by a miserably drenched Adso, another battle lost for the poor feline.

  
______

  
During supper, where Murtaugh donned a large swell of a bump on his noggin, he noticed the plentiful mass of food that graced the table before him and queried to the sudden abundance. The answer left him with a dead eye blink of disbelief.

A demonstration with a rose plucked from a small blue vase left him with a gaping jaw for a swarm of flies to dwell in.

"I'm still the same Jamie I always was, just..more of me to know." Jamie finished lamely, trying to reassure his godfather and looked to his mother, almost in question, who nodded in confirmation.

"Aye, same. Same is what ye call the ability to give life? That's the gift that the God above all gives women. What ye have I- I dinna ken." He was dumbfounded for sure and stared in wide eyed awe at Jamie as if he was committing the act again just now.

"I think we may have given poor Murtaugh an apoplexy." Ellen teased.

"Shall we give his plate to Adso, Mam?" Jamie added with a deliberate straight face.

Adso, who had been trying to charm his humans by rubbing affectionately against their calves, meowed in happy enthusiasm at such a lovely idea.

He gripped his plate with a loud grunt. The dark, whiskers on Murtaughs face twitched while his nostrils flared wide like a bull, sending mother and son into hearty laughter.

"Cackle like the hens ye are ye wee ninnies, I willna show ye what's hidin' away fer ye," Murtaugh grumbled as he stuffed his gob.

It was a hollow threat.

  
____

  
The 'treasures', Murtaugh informed them, were simple this time around, for work as a traveling hired hand had been slim. But something is something, at least he hoped.

For Jamie, a wool tartan of Fraser colors in tones of the earth. Jamie traced the lines with his finger tips, a proud fabric he draped over his broad shoulders smelling mildly of lanolin.

"Verra handsome, mo chridhe." Ellen remarked, as she smoothed the fabric of the young man before her, a faint blush lighting his cheeks.

For the matron of the family Fraser, a pair of bracelets made from the tusks of a boar, lovingly polished to an ivory glow with the tips capped in silver and etched with flowers.

"I ken the'r not finery," Murtaugh mumbled, scratching his beard to near baldness,"not jeweled or gold, just horns of tuskers."

Ellen ignored him and held the bracelets up, the lowering sun catching the ends as if it were truly studded with such splendors. Her eyes, so deeply rich in blue with shades of violet heather at the edges, held a softness, so clearly moved.

"Ye made these, mo sheann duine?"

My old man.

That was as close to a true heart endearment Jamie had ever heard. For the old man himself too.

"Aye." A man of few words when moved and one who couldn't sit in his own ineptitude to voice more.

Murtaugh cleared his throat,"Maybe we could spar a bit, Jamie, see what I can teach ye." Without waiting for an answer he quickly got to his feet and made for the door.

Ellen, seemingly unfazed, looked to Jamie, pulling his drapery away from him and gave her son a push to follow.

"Knock the manners back into your godfather till his ears ring, will ye, mo mhac?"

"Whatever ye say, Mam."

  
_______

  
Outside

  
After a heated sparring session that left young and old more then a bit breathless, the two men dropped like flies to the cool short grass and had themselves a wee nip of whisky to soothe muscles and joints.

"I dinna remember ye being so skilled with the blade on last meeting." Murtaugh huffed, pulling the collar of his shirt to waff in air.

"I've been taught by the local schoolmaster Murray." Jamie said casually, knowing the response he'd receive right close to his ears.

"Schoolmaster?!" Murtaugh exclaimed as predicted.

"He wasn't one in his youth and since his son marrit a wee thing he took an interest in me, maybe a bit of pity too." Jamie took a heavy swig of the brown liquid, sure to grow him a fleece if he kept on.

"That Murray ken't his sword." Murtaugh rubbed the muscles in his arm, tense from a blocked over head strike." Damn, sure."

Silence overtook them as they sat side by side watching the sun dip low behind the crest of the mountain range, washing them in a light of dying embers of ruby bronze and the air became crisp once more.

Now was as good as time as any. Jamie knew when he saw the man that it was providence, his lucky star of hope throwing him yet another bone of what he had been denied. That the letter received a few weeks ago was now a reality for the answers of his youth to be fullfilled.

"I plan on leaving, Murtaugh," Jamie spoke, his voice gruff from the sting of whisky," I want to see a bit of the world before I'm auld and greyed," not a total lie," and I want ye to look after mam for me."

"Does yer mother know?" Jamie expected a string of curses and questions, a whack definitely, but his godfathers voice was oddly soft in Scots to Jamie's ears. A man striving for patience and understanding.

"I think she may know already." Jamie thumbed the mouth of the whiskey bottle, as a tremble of nerves pulsed in his belly, "She's seen other lads leave their home, far younger than I and lately she's been sweeter than buttermilk to me." She was always sweet with him. "I've waited three seasons of crops to put more then enough coins to line her pocket…more then enough for what I need to do."

"Three?" The tone of the older man was lightly accusatory. "This plan of yers has been grinding in yer mind, hasn't it?" He swiped the bottle and gulped down the last of the amber drops.

Jamie was hesitant to reveal the correspondence he had been keeping, of the last letters contents, worried that the danger of such an endeavor would be met with him being hog tied. He scratched his wrist at the thought.

"Dinna fash, I willna be like my father. I plan on coming back home, as quickly as the wind can carry me, I assure ye."

Murtagh tapped his palm against his knee in contemplation with his head hanging low but eyes on the last of the horizons light, longer then Jamie would have imagined.

"I'll care for Ellen's well being while ye have yer walkabout," he answered softly,and I wish ye a swift and safe journey, Jamie. Just use yer heid." The expected slap finally made contact.

"Thank ye, Goistidh." Jamie stood, wiping his breeks of grass when a thought crossed his mind that curled his lips to a beaming grin," And when I come back I hope to see you and Mam hand in hand." Jamie scampered off like a child who had bested his elder, leaving the man reddened to an alarming degree with a string of mumbled curses under his breath.

It was only when Murtaugh raised himself to follow Jamie's path did he notice…

The grass was knee high now where Jamie had stepped.

Flowers that had never graced the fields bloomed in his wake.

And the man the cause of such a sight, his back to him now heading to homes embrace, unaware of how he was now lit within. A ray gently, gently aflame.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***The scene with the tusk desciption is pulled straight from the book and only slightly reworded,slightly.
> 
> I know nothing thrilling happens here but I promise Claire is coming.  
> Crash! Bang! Boom! Love!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who likes this little story. It's fantasy-lite but it's still scary to write and I hope you all like it. If you don't give me your two cents, I'm open to constructive criticism.
> 
> Also, sadly my wifi is going to be on the fritz for a while so the next updates might be a while, still not sure yet.


	3. Chapter 2

 

There wasn’t much one could do on a farm to stimulate the mind, to aid in daydreams of faraway times and lands unless you had books. Jamie would read the same verses, sonnets, passages of adventures long past gone, over and over till his eyes would sting and water from the fading candlelight.

There was one book, with faded leather binding and fraying at the edges, that was left in his mother’s possessions. She gave it a critical eye, making it a point to read aloud herself, changing the events deemed unsuitable for his young ears as she read along, forcing Jamie to find the truth while she was occupied elsewhere.

The stories contained within the yellowed pages were that of the fearless warrior, Bronagh, and her trials and tribulations against the dark forces. But it was her tragic defeat in war early in her life that Jamie would reread, tracing the words to bring them to his reality.

 

                                                                               __________

 

_“Flee!” the trees howled, bowing their branches in a tangling maze behind the last of the massacred clan as she ran to the haven of the forest._

_“Flee with the light!”_

_Bronagh, breath painfully ragged from pierced ribs, desperately gasped for air as she leaned against the mossy bark of gnarled wood. She stabbed her broken, jagged sword to the earth and searched her clothing, sopping with sweat and blood of her own and of others now gone. Her trembling, marred fingers stilled when she felt the outline of the black object at her breast, a short melted stub no bigger than her forefinger. But she had no flint, no spark to light her only escape._

_Fading hope was wretched further away with the shrieking cry of trees._

_Bronagh’s heart lurched against her wounded ribs at the sound of branches being ripped apart and the haunting wails of the night stalkers, with sunken eyes and gaping mouths coming for the last of the living._

_“Tell me what to do!?” she pleaded to the trees but their voices were consumed by the hungry moans of death crawling closer and closer to her that trickled like frost deep down her spine._

_Facing the end, Bronagh wielded her sword for the final time. She thought of the flatlands, so wide with endless seas of green and pastures of horses galloping past her vision in waves of beauty. Bronagh thought of home._

_Home, until her breast pocket began to burn and she scrambled to bring forth the candle._

_Flashes of bright sapphire and amber in a swirl of black erupted from its wick, reflections of the secrets held in the night skies enveloped Bronagh, spiriting her away with the last of the Babylon candle…“_

                                                                                   _________

 

A Babylon candle. A flame of magic that could send you to your heart’s truest desire. But could it work the other way.

Who to call on, Jamie was never in doubt of.

How to obtain such a rarity, an issue.

The last, could he truly summon a god.

 

______

 

Inbhir Nis

 

Jamie had arrived to the bustling town in a wagon of hell sired chickens. Peck crazed, cluck maddening to the point of fantasy induced dreams of carnage chickens, to be exact. Their feathers of soft white christened him a newborn chick and on first glance you could have sworn a flurry had passed through.

Shaking most of the excess plume from his clothes and auburn locks, Jamie gathered his belongings - a burrowed rucksack full of goods most useful and unnecessary by his mother and of course a broadsword and dirk safely sheathed at his waist, hopefully for the entirety of his travels.

He made his way down the cobbled roads full of people shoulder to shoulder, looking up to the signs to find the match that was written in the paper grasped in his fist. He scanned the tightly knit scrawl once more to the fellows whereabouts. The fellow being a former solicitor now full time adventurer Jamie had met the in a cramped shop in Broch Mordha three years past.

 

_______

 

Jamie had been on errand for his mother in need of cloth and stitching needle and with their now more then meager doits and pence from their crops he could buy his mother in bulk much to his delight.

Walking into the shop, mindful not to bash his head in the door frame but forgetting the bell entirely, Jamie strolled the aisles of buttons and cloth with a dull ring lightly humming in his ears that he nearly missed the conversation being had at the front of the shop.

He was a short man with gold rimmed spectacles and dressed finely in tailored made garb with a touch of lace at his stock. He was leaning over the counter in deep conversation with the shopkeeper, who looked to be nodding along for the sake of politeness that was being severely tested. But what caught Jamie’s interest was the whispered _Ban-druidh_.

"Ban-druidh?! What do ye know of such a being?” Jamie interjected, his wide blue eyes catching the spectacles wearing mans attention from his unwilling audience, much to the others relief.

“Are ye searching for the lady here?” Jamie asked loudly, eliciting a rather loud shush from the shopkeeper. The older man took him aside to the small wooden bench beneath the window, their heads bent towards one another like children sharing a devilish secret.

“Nae, the woman lurks in Gaul, from anywhere between Lotharingen to Falaise, I haven’t the foggiest idea yet, but I’m bound to the coast to board ship and track the creature down and -”

“To hunt her? To ask for a charm? To grant a wish?” The possibilities running rampant of such a journey invading his mind and sending jolts of excitement through Jamie’s veins.

Normally, the older man would gently remind a young lad of manners, but his enthusiasm echoed his own.

“To see, is what I seek. Magic is a dying art in this world. Gods and spirits, who even knows if they care about us anymore, not since the sun above walked these parts -that I believe is truth no matter what the locals say. I want to see it all before the world is nothing more then a numbing interlude to the afterlife.”

If only he knew of who he shared company with, Jamie grinned.

“What would you ask her if she were here before you now?” The elder man asked. “Love trouble is it Ye want a lass to turn her lovely eyes your way or is it a woman you are no’ worthy of?”

“I am no fool to look to a being such as she for such blather.” Jamie responded, offended by the assumption.

“Forgive me, I mistook your youth for immaturity. If you care to tell me what would you ask the Ban-druidh?” He amended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose

Jamie looked over to the counter where the shopkeeper was occupying himself with arranging a display of colored threads.

“A Babylon candle.” He whispered almost shyly, turning his attention to his boots. “I ken the impossibility of obtaining the item, but her kind are the only ones left who posses such wonders.”

“That they are, the last ones who know of dark magic.” The man looked to the boy whose shoulders were now slumped inward, a dream forever impossible. Or maybe not.

“However, if I happen to find the woman dancing under moonlight or God’s help me in a cave on the mountain tops, I shall inquire on your behalf for a Babylon candle - maybe two,” he added with a chuckle, patting his knobby joints “It would be easier on these auld knees of mine.”

“Truly?” Jamie nearly stuttered, “For a boy ye’ve just met?”

“How could I not for a kindred spirit” he smiled “Now before I disembark to paths unknown I must know first, what is your name dear boy? I was so caught up with talk of magic that I let my manners fail me.”

Jamie stood, startling the man who just now was able to see the breadth of the lad.

“James Fraser, at your service and forever indebted to ye.” He extended a hand towards his new companion.

“Ned Gowan,” he replied, standing and reciprocating the gesture “A true pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

 

________

 

Since their encounter Jamie had received three letters from Ned. Letters grimed with mud and rain, written with thinned ink of dead ends and false leads until the final one.

_“…I have found it!”_

Jamie remembered nearly tearing the paper in two from excitement. Whether he had acquired the candle was a question unanswered in the letter, only a promise of a reunion between the two at a tavern aptly named The World’s End and a date that Jamie was two days past due.

Damn chickens!

 

______

 

The tavern was situated down a steep incline with a large wooden sign hanging high. Inside, to the corner where the light was faint and smoke trails snaked in thick shafts of grey was Ned Gowan, glassy eyed and looking more worse for wear then Jamie had last remembered him being.

Ned was startled at seeing Jamie and his expression, usually soft in kindness, was replaced with irritation tempered by drink.

“Have ye found her?” Jamie voiced excitedly, getting straight to the point and taking his seat across from him.

“Your late.” Ned replied dryly as he replenished his gullet with drink. “M’ lad, I have been waiting here in this seat for hours on end, for near on two days waiting for ye. I was about to give up on seeing that red-heid of yours.”

“I’m aware. I had a wee bit of trouble procuring a horse and had to settle for fowl who, I guarantee ye, lived up to the name.” Jamie’s grimace gave Ned a much needed chuckle.

“I can see,” Ned said as he picked a feather from his shoulder letting it flutter down to the sticky wooden flooring, “And smell,” Ned added, with a flare of his nostrils.

“I give ye my sincerest apologies,” Jamie blushed, brushing his hand along his shirt. “But did ye find her - the candle?” He asked anxiously as he leaned forward, so close he could see his own self mirrored in Ned’s smudged spectacles.

“Aye, the Ban-sidhe, witch, whatever title ye give her goes by the name of Gellis. I heard about claims that she was in the safety of a patron near the Pyrenees mountains to seek one of her own.” Ned rubbed his palms against his knees, the aches of long hikes and damp weather still lingering in his joints.

“I was able to meet with her under the guise of seeking her counsel on my bountiful wealth I inherited and what a sight she was.” Jamie could see the clench in Ned’s jaw and his color pale to a sickly white.

“She sat beside me so close I could smell the decay on her breath, see the wrinkled fat skin and folds on her like a parasitic worm. She is a most completely wicked creature.” Jamie could hear the waver in his voice, see the shake in his hands of a man thoroughly disturbed. “I knew the moment I walked into her patrons home, when I first set my eyes upon her it was a lost cause but I was there for a reason and I was not about to cower away like a bairn so I asked her, asked about the Babylon candle.”

Ned took another heavy gulp of drink before continuing. “She has one. Showed it to me and said she would give it to me for the price of my left arm and tongue.

There was a sharp intake of air and a whispered a dhia from Jamie’s lips.

"I thought I was dead then and there. Had my prayers to the God above all ready until she cackled and left me sitting in a pool of my own sweat, nearly stole my soul with her departure.”

“I’m only here out of common courtesy to tell ye that she is here and off to Craig na Dunn for her own gain.”

Jamie who had been sitting with a curdling stomach as Ned told his tale took a moment to register his words or possibly warning.

“Why to those ruins does she go?” Jamie had an image of monoliths in a stone circle and of druids dancing for fruitful spring harvest.

“My mind is so doused in drink that I forget.” His cup emptied Ned’s gaze lifted to Jamie’s, his face holding a morose, grim smile, “The candle was taken from her patron, murdered most likely that day she received me and seeing the state of her health I presume she needs an altar where the moon is brightest, for a star is what she’s after.”

Ned was giving him a choice to pursue or go home and fear crept heavy in Jamie’s heart. He wanted answers, yes, and in theory he was brave and fearless as those who battled worse but to actually face and likely kill another being.

Even with his gifts, he could only bring about growth in plants. What could he do?

Jamie clenched his eyes tight, away from Ned’s questioning gaze, away from the stifling fumes of the tavern. Jamie thought of home. With fields of white and purple heather and bonny bluebells that flourished in the glade. Wheat, golden and growing high, swaying with the wind of another promising yield. He thought of his mother as he last saw her, the sweet warm breeze sending her reddend hair, so like his own, across her face that held a smile so full of pride that he ached.

Jamie could still feel her kiss on his cheek as he promised a quick return. Always to be a dutiful son.

For his mother he would fight a Ban-sidhe,

For her he would find her love.

“If I leave now could I catch up with her?”

Ned sighed and rubbed the point between his brows. “Gellis is a large bessom and should only be part ways there. I have a horse that I’m sure ye want, a fast darling, she’ll get ye where needed.”

“I’m surprised yer no’ telling me it a lost cause. To go home to my mother while I still have all my blessed limbs.” Jamie half smiled.

“How careless of me, go home you wretched fool,” Ned said weakly then shook his head.“ No, it wouldn’t do. Ye have it in your blood to be reckless, so do I. Besides I gave ye my warning and here ye still sit but for the Lords above, act fast and aim for the head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played with locations and distance in this chapter (I know the pub is in edinburgh) but when I had to rewrite from scrap (see below) I had to change city locations.
> 
> This was supposed to be more about two "thieves" in the night and how Gellis had a cult formed around her but it was getting too supernatural as opposed to fairytale and I rewrote it soo hopefully the change is ok.
> 
> Next week Claire! Finally!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was getting lengthy so I split it into two parts.

 

  
_Part 1_

 

One could always find solace under the tranquil glow of the moon and stars. The lasses were always kind to a wanderer, stargazer or a boy desperate with need who wished and wished for more.

The star, with her aching soul, finally relented and gave to him that which was denied. A power that left the boy attune to the subtleties of all that flourished under his touch.

Jamie had never wanted more from his lucky star, never needed to until now, as he raced on horseback to the unknown.

He sent silent prayers to his one and only amongst the constellations flickering in the black abyss of a cloudless sky. One for his mother, another for his godfather. With the last for _Her_ and her sisters above.

_Lords, Preserve them from violence and from harm, On this night and every night._

 

                                                                           ________

 

Two Days Past

  
There had been little rest on the road for Jamie, more so for the mare, Thistle, who was as Ned had proclaimed truly a darling with the agility and stamina that rivaled any stallion. Jamie could feel the pulse of her rippling strength pass through his own, a perfect rhythm, as he galloped the copper clad lass to a thunderous pace.

 

  
_"Aim for the head - the back." Ned had advised." Dousing her in brandy and flame wouldn't be terrible either."_

_"That's it? No special ritual or a knife forged in hellfires?"_  
_No advice beyond the obvious?_

_"You're familiar with the Ballad of Dalhousie I see. Oh, there are grand mystic potions most useful and if ye have a blade of that nature up your sleeve, by all means use it." Ned had lightly mocked as he waved his hand dismissively._

_"Iron is all ye have. A single chance for success for the candle is but a stub." The elder man had emphasized. "Of course, if ye miss her heid she will surely have yours, m' lad, if she doesn't torture ye first." The redheads jaw clenched and he turned just a shade whiter than cream._

_"I'll take leave wi' yer horse now if ye dinna mind, mo charaid."_

 

  
The plan, as Ned had put it plainly, wasn't much of one to begin with. Kill a witch, snatch a candle. Jamie had skill enough that he trusted, even if it was only in practice. Then there was what laid in his bones. But what could growing flowers do to kill one, who surely had the reeking stain of death upon her.

Jamie's mind was occupied with scenario's of action that he hadn't noticed a large heap to the side of the worn dirt path. Thistle, veered sharply to her left, nearly throwing Jamie from his saddle. Pulling the reins to control her movements, Jamie spoke to the spooked horse with soothing words of his mother tongue and tender strokes at the crest of her tawny mane until the tremor of distress left her frame.

Dismounting with a reassuring pat at Thistles rear, Jamie turned to what had disturbed her to panic, his hand on hilt.

Under the blanket of twilight he could see it was the ban-druidhs horse that he'd been tracking. What must have once been a magnificent jet-black steed was now a gaunt creature with tongue and eyes swollen red from thirst and being driven relentlessly to overexertion. Jamie placed his hand at the horse's head, the last kind touch he could offer, and whispered with a voice strained in anger, _"Bi aig tana sìth."_

Off to the side, Jamie could see the Ban-druidhs frantic footprints that led straight to the maze of trees slivered in moonlight, hurrying to Craigh na Dun.

 

________

 

  
There was no chirping of crickets, no whistling of wind weaving between the boughs of trees, just the stale spirit of life's absence in the thicket of woods around. So unnatural, unsettling.

A hush of evil permeated in the air. Quiet and lurking, seeping deep into the threads that held Jamie's heart together, threatening to cease his organs flow of blood.

With every step and crackle of twigs and leaves, with every haunting shadow a looming threat, Jamie gripped his broadsword that much tighter in his sweaty palms, the gleam of his blade the only comfort in the gloom.

Then the night sky split with a beam of blinding white, illuminating all with the breath of heavens above.

Too late.

With his heart a solid mound of stone that dropped to his stomach, Jamie ran to the light.

 

  
________

 

  
Craigh na dun

 

It was a place of forgotten worship, of stones arranged high and mighty in a circle to be revered and praised. But now it was nothing more then a crumbling ruin with the largest of the stone piers having fallen to the ground, cracked in two. Covered in overgrown weeds and bracken, it laid in dark oblivion until heavens light washed it anew and the stone circle was given purpose once more.

 

_______

 

  
A single torch had been lit, it's flame dancing on she, whose face of ancient serenity was contorted in nightmarish torment.

Claire's mind was a frenzied storm of fragmented images, sensations, and the only conscious piece to arise to the forefront of the gale had been agony.

Agony, from the throbbing scream of infinity being torn apart that ripped and carved itself deep within her soul and hacked away at every corner of her mind. She forced her eyes to open with the sheer will of fright and came face to face with a demon, eyes and grin brimming with deranged delight.

Infernum, she madly thought through the haze of confusion. But as her amber eyes focused so did clarity and she saw only a vile creature of earthly descent, gaze intent on her chest.

Claire scrambled to rise, to flee, but the simple command of _"Stad!"_ from the hags cracked purple lips, crushed her to the collapsed stone monolith she laid upon. Her chest was the only betrayal of movement as it heaved wildly, arching upward to the skies, begging for home.

The woman, if only just barely, laid her hand to gently caress Claire between her breasts causing a wave of revulsion to sicken her.

"Lords that heart of yers�" the womanly creature murmured, as her eyes glazed over in hunger feeling the hammering thrum of deep desires and high passions, endless joys and horrible compassion. But most of all the core of the star held the promises of youth and she pressed her palm firmly to it with a lovers longing sigh.

"May you choke you treacherous devil!" Claire hissed, even as fear betrayed her voice.

"Watch yer tongue my wee beauty or I'll gut ye from navel to nose, a shameful way to go," she purred, pulling her golden hilted dagger from it's sheath of slaughtered bone and twirled the tip in grisly tease at Claire's belly.

Distracted in lust of victory's rewards the crone hadn't heard the stealthy approach of a man, sword raised for a striking blow. Claire, however did. Her breathing hitched, stilling her chest for only a moment, but moment long enough and the woman quickly turned.

  
____

 

  
The Ban-druidh - Geillis, Ned had called her, was exactly how he described and so much more.

She held the scent of rotting flesh that curdled his wame close to wretching. Her crazed smile was decayed with bloodied, blackened gums and her hair, thin as spider gossamer, was whiter then the paleness of her flesh, plump from indulgence. Her eyes of emerald green, the last remnant of charm and loveliness, shined in great cruelty as they locked on Jamie, ready to pounce.

So was he.

Geillis, as large as she was, moved with the speed of a cat on fire and made a dash to her right to avoid the blow, unaware of the thorned roots protruding from the ground, tangling her feet to fall and smashing her face raw.

Jamie advanced on her moaning form and drove his blade down with all the force he could muster but Geillis outstretched her arm, bony fingers sharp as needles pointed his way.

 _"Bualadh!"_ She shrieked through blood gurgling at her mouth.

Jamie, in complete bewilderment froze in midstroke.

 _No._ His minds voice whimpered.

 _"Tuiteam!"_ Geillis curled her hand to a fist and slammed it down to the ground.

_Please. No._

Jamie dropped to his knees, palms sinking to the grass with his weapon to his side, no longer at his defense. His body was numb, breathing shallow as his lungs became restricted by invisible coils wrapping him with ever increasing pressure. His blue eyes shaded with the color of horrid failure darted to the woman whose face echoed his own. Dread and unimaginable terror.

With lumbering movement Geillis pulled herself to her feet, swaying ever so as the sticky red liquid clouded her vision. Breathing heavily, she retrieved her dagger and dragged it against Jamie's cheek, leaving a thin slash in it's wake.

"Tis yer lucky day wee fox cub, ye get to watch a true wonder - a living star as I tear her apart ." Geilis cackled and licked the metallic substance from her stained lips.

"Ye will lay no hand on her _ye gann fiadhaich!"_

"Dinna fash, ye gallant knight, I'll no' forget ye."

Jamie pleaded with her, to take him in exchange but her attention went to the star who spat and invoked every curse, shedding no tears, refusing to give any satisfaction to the beast.

Jamie could only watch as he sat powerless under her spell. No images of life flashed before his eyes only the feel of his mother's strong embrace, scented with sweet roses and fresh bread, the scratch at his temple of his godfather's beard, a kiss from a long ago memory and the woman of the stars, her screams of fury a defeaning blow that blotted out his own.

A rage overcame him like the sizzle of lightning.

His fingertips twitched in the earth beneath him and the air was turned thick, heavy, suffocating.  
  
Grass and plants that littered the grounds shriveled to dust, the whole length of trees bent to the son of fire's call and weeped as they were drained of their life's vibrance. The price was death to set a firestar ablaze.

A gentle ray no longer, Jamie blinded the ban- druidh with his brilliance, her eyes turning white and magic words dying on her tongue, lifting her enchantment. Jamie's blue eyes, now golden in sunlight met his spirits twin of vivid amber in wordless speech and she dashed to safety.

A faint, _'mo chridhe,'_ from Geillis lips reached the brightest of all stars ears as his hands wrapped around her throat, moving with a will of their own knowing what must be done. Jamie closed his eyes, not wanting to witness a body consumed by the flames of his on doing ,but the feel of her melted flesh molded to his own, briefly, but enough to burn to memory, before dissipating to the air in ash, then into nothingness.

Coming back to himself in astonishment, Jamie's eyes opened to the ocean blue of his mortal self and scanned his surroundings of scorched earth, with sprouts of embers scattered about. No trace of the Ban-druidh marked him, yet he went to his knees and raked his hands in the ruined soil to cleanse himself from the stain of such an evils essence till he felt the scrape of pain to his skin and heard a sharp cry that had not escaped from his mouth.

Jamie looked past the slab of rock to the dense brush where the woman of starlight had vanished.

He was lightheaded and queasy, the hot waves of shock still quaked in his limbs, but he jerked himself up on shaky legs and staggered towards the direction of her voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went ahead and posted early since everytime I opened this file I kept deleting and deleting lines.
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading this little daydream!!! I appreciate it so much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter numbers are wonky and I can't fix them. But I'm pretty sure everything is in the right order.

She was the smallest among her sisters. A dim pebble amidst the lustrous pearls that stretched across somber skies. She had no name of grandeur, of Kings and Queens or celestial beings, only one  unbefitting for a star so faint and waning.

Her guidance had never been sought in nights of stormy seas or looked upon with sighs of adoration. No soul in all of time had ever desired her loving light.

Not until the forlorn plea of a boy who called out to her and only her. And Claire, the loneliest of stars, had never shined so bright.

She knew of his sadness so hopeless, a longing so desperate and the fires within that spoke to who he truly was. Despite the punishment to help the boy sired in unblessed union, she granted him his birthright.

_He_ , who saw her best and brightest above all.

 

                                                                                                    ________

 

Claire stumbled into branches that snagged in her russet curls and scrapped against her ruddy cheeks. She twisted her bare footing to near falls and injuries over twigs and uneven earth that had her wincing, pain still so new a sensation. But it was a step into seemingly inviting soft bracken that she felt a sting along her soles that had her cry out and tumble down a slope.

Claire’s blue-gray robes of sky were covered in dead crackled leaves, her hair a tangled mess of teasel heads sprinkled in the strands, while her frigid hands cradled her feet, the only balm to the ache. She was cold, injured, and far, far from home.

“Damn!” Was what resounded on her tongue in pained frustration. “Bloody, bloody, damn!”

A signal of life other then her own drawing nearer had Claire’s already pounding heart jolting dangerously to swaying, the colored spots flaring just at the corners of her eyes. A woman of heavens light no longer, she quickly brandished her fist with a nearby jagged rock and raised herself, biting her lip.

The woodlands were dyed in bright shafts of silvery moon, so easily then did she see the man, his hair a fiery wave of dishevelment only slightly dulled, slide down the slope to reach her.

“Stay where you are!” Claire had warned, raising the rock sure for him to see. He had saved her but what for, she wondered, still pulsing with alarm.

Jamie kept to where he was, straight as a stalk, hands at shoulders height to show he meant no harm. He was as flushed as she, both exhausted with only the rush of adrenaline keeping them afloat.

“I’m here to help ye, Mistress. I care not fer what ye are.” Jamie assured her softly as if he were calming his mare.“I give ye my oath that I have no interest beyond yer safety.” To show the sincerity of his motives, Jamie very carefully drew the dirk from his belt and tossed it her way, his sword having gone the way of the Ban-druidh.“ Better then yon rock if it makes ye feel more secure.”

Claire eyed the knife, longer and broader then the one that had grazed her stomach with skepticism and left it where it laid.

“What were you doing here then if you have no interest in me? I saw fire sprout from your hands, are you of her blood?” Claire questioned, shifting from foot to foot to alleviate the sting shooting against her tender skin, not going unnoticed by the redhead.

“I was after the hag and the candle she possessed, but I was too late and succeeded in only the former. As to the display,” Jamie gave her a small sheepish grin and a shrug of his shoulders, “It was a surprise to me as you and I dare assume for that creature as well.” His body twitched, the effects still lingering.

“And I thank you for that, truly.” Rescue from a near collision with death was still not enough, though, she wouldn’t waver.

“I’m just a farm boy, Mistress and a bastard one at that. My only fault of blood is that I was sired by a man of fire.”

_Man of…_

“Your name!?” Claire demanded, her eyes wide at the impossible probability of who she was locked in a standoff with, the stone lowering ever so slightly.

“James Fraser, from the humble cottage Lallybroch.”

A smile so profound in joy crossed Claire’s face and shone in her rich whisky eyes that kindled something unknown at the very center of Jamie. She dropped the stone to the ground, letting it roll to the tip of his muddied boots and her frame, so minuscule when compared to his, relaxed with relief.

“I know you.” Her voice held the tone of an intimacy finally bridged.

Jamie was rooted where he stood as starlight herself, closed the gap between the two, the pain underfoot suddenly bearable. Claire’s fingertips caressed the sweep of his jaw, her touch light as a breeze sending a shiver down Jamie’s spine from so innocent an act. “Were you always so tall?”

Jamie’s brows creased in confusion, ignored the question and her distracting touch to ask one of his own throbbing in his mind.

“Who are ye?” He searched her face, smudged and scrapped for recognition.

“Do you not recognize me?” She teased, nodding up to a now vacant point in the dark expanse of space. Jamie’s face screwed for a moment till the sudden shock of knowledge that had gripped her now had it’s hold on him.

“You are the one I prayed to."A statement unquestioned, a truth so absolute that left Jamie near speechless. His own fingers hovered over her smudged cheek, hesitant to touch in case she were to fade away.

"I could hear your voice so young, nearly every night you called on me. Jamie…” she breathed and threw her arms around him tight till ribs were certainly cracked and her riotous curls tickled his nose. but the sudden jerk brought the wave of discomfort back ever so for her to cringe once more and pull away, tugging the hem of her dress seeing his expression of concern.

“I seem to attract bodily damage wherever I go.” She quipped with a grimace.

Jamie bent to her soles and with as soft a touch as he could give, turned it over and brushed the dirt away revealing a blush from demons flowers.

“Och,"Jamie sighed as he picked himself back up, "I’m afraid ye’ve stepped in a nettle bush, Mistress.”

“Claire, my name is Claire.”

The words that escaped from Jamie’s mouth were of the title he had given her, the beginning of every prayer, _“Prìseil de sorcha.”_

“That’s rather nice as well.” Claire grinned, pleased from such words of worship and Jamie’s ears tinged pink. He had spoken to her from his heart all these years, of course she’d know their meaning.

He cleared his throat, suddenly parched.

“You won’t be walking for a time on yer sores and my horse is back the other way.” With his eyes firmly set to his boots and throat dry as hay he added, “If I may be so bold I’ll need to carry ye, that is if ye dinna mind.”

“I’ve never been carried before.” She was rather amused, the idea novel for a being such as she and completely welcomed. “I’d like to leave this wood that harbors who knows what else in one piece, so if you must be my steed then please, if you may.”

Jamie bent to a knee, retrieving his dirk in the process and tapped his shoulder.

“Come, before that creatures spirit comes to haunts us both with a vengeance.” Claire didn’t think he was entirely joking -he gave her the oddest of winks- and quickly wrapped her arms around Jamie’s shoulders as he lifted her off the ground. He smelled strongly of smoke and sweat that watered her eyes and stung her nose. His breathing was deep and heavy that pressed fully against her chest, the only sign under moonlight that gave away his fatigue. But for the first time since her descent to the mortal world, Claire felt a warmth so safe and so wonderfully kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was supposed to be much longer but I couldn’t get the two parts to mesh. At all. Even this chapter is a bit wonky and is one of those situations where a non writer is completely out of her depth. (I deleted stuff from this one too)
> 
> Next chapter will be short as well, so sorry. I really am pushing myself to get better at description. It’s hard for someone whose vocab consists of thing and thingy. 
> 
> Here's a wee preview to the few people who have stuck with this (unless I delete from the next chapter too):
> 
> "Out of all the others, why on me did you call?"
> 
> "You were nestled between Sirius and Canopus, they burned like white fire, loud and obnoxious but you had a gentle glow about ye like a halo. I thought ye heavenly and maybe a friend who would listen," he smiled." And ye did."


	6. Chapter 6

PART THREE

 

Near Dawn

They were far enough away from Craigh na Dun to no longer feel it’s unsettling presence under their skins and trail up their necks but still had a ways to go until Inbhir Nis. Jamie had not wanted to drive poor Thistle too hard so they traveled to a slower trot, with Jamie walking alongside his copper lass and Claire, quite taken with Thistle, atop.

She was wrapped in his tartan pulled from his pack and somehow, by the spiteful spirits of every fowl ever roasted in Jamie’s hearth, carrying stray wisps of feathers that dislodged with the wind. He kept his gaze steady ahead but glanced back with a shepard’s eye and a curl of a lip at Claire, hands tight to the pommel, the royal blue of her veins standing out as she moved awkwardly, not quite in sync. But she held her head high taking in the sights and sounds around her that were always more of a hazy dream than a tangible reality. A reality that both pricked at her eyes and heart and captured her senses with life no longer stagnant.

They had stopped near a brook, a place secluded enough not to be bothered for rest of tired limbs and heavy eyes. All three, horse, star and farmer lad, found it blissful but the nagging ache of hunger was ever present and would be so if not amended. Sleep would wait.

Claire reveled in the brisk waters to her sores while Jamie tied Thistle to a tree, already budding at the branches. He brushed his fingers against the grooves of bark and with gentle encouragement the buds began to bloom to flowers of pristine white, only to shrink back and grow into pomes that grew and ripened to a delicious red ,then fall to the grass in a rain none so gentle.

Jamie received a seething grunt and swish of a tail from Thistle and laughs from a star who would be without nourishment if she kept on, no matter if she sounded of birdsong so lovely.

“Does that happen often?” Claire’s lips quivered, the chuckles still pushing threateningly against her ribs. It truly was a sight to behold a man as big as he being so careful with his capabilities and terribly more so when it bounced off his head.

Jamie took his seat next to her, arms full of apples and with a mock glare tossed her the bounty of red and green delights.

“I have to touch the tree fer it to fruit. I’ve tried it from a distance with my hand on it’s roots, released too much pressure and I split the puir tree in two. Felt awful guilty fer it.” Jamie turned the apple in his hands knowing he was now capable of much more.

“Not many would.”

“If they felt the shudder and cower of the oaks kin maybe they would.” Claire looked to the sprawling trees that sheltered them waiting for morning sun. Calm, happy and trusting of one so kind.

Jamie took a hefty bite that Claire mirrored with enthusiasm, first taste of juice so sweet and refreshing that rippled to every point and nerve in her body. Neither cared much about etiquette and let the liquid dribble down their chins, famished as they were.

They ate in silence waiting for either the questions on both their minds to voice or to give in to their bodies demands for sleep.

“Jamie,” Claire broke the silence, feeling her stomach swell with satisfaction. “You said you were in need of the babylon candle, but what for?”

Jamie choked down the last of his apple core. The failure of obtaining the chance to confront his father was still an opened wound. But what did it matter anyway, the chance was gone now.“I wanted to call my father from his place up high to ask of him of his abandonment of us.”

He thought he would get a sympathetic touch or word but Claire’s eyes flared, mouth agape. “You’re telling me you wanted to shroud the world in darkness,  _again,_  so you could have a row with the God of the sun?”

“Weel, I..” Jamie gave a flat blink as the wheels of logic turned in his brain “I dinna think about it quite like that.” Jamie stiffened as Claire gripped the fruit between her palms ready to hurl. “Are ye planning to bash my heid in with an apple, Sorcha?”

Claire gave him a glare, not in jest, and dropped the half eaten fruit to her lap.

“Idiocy runs through your bones, Father and son, a pair of twins you both are.” But her mind was quick to recall how no spirit or Gods came to his aid and with no one to tell him the truth why shouldn’t he seek answers…no matter how absolutely stupid a scheme. She exhaled every ounce of breath from her lungs, sympathy taking hold.

“The reason,” Claire began, her words free of earlier judgement “for your fathers disappearance was because he was punished.”

“Punished? How?” A notion Jamie had never considered. So much easier to blame and fester hate.

“The sun defied the God above all for a mortal and when  ** _He_**  found out of your existence your father was banned from interfering in you and your mother’s lives. That’s why the skies are gray. The sun mourns your loss nor does he show himself or speak to any soul, star or God.”

“And us? Were we punished as well?” Hunger was a shadow in his stomach but he could still feel the stab of it. He at least had his mother to battle through the trials but his father- he was left alone, suffering, knowing his loves thought him heartless.

Jamie, lost in thoughts, pulled at the long blades of vibrant grass between them, unknowingly fading the strands to a dull yellow, to a shrivel, to the air.

“You’re of his blood,” she spoke softly,“Any bit of him was suppressed in you.”

Claire stilled his hand, calloused from labor at so young an age and so much bigger, with both her own. She hardly felt it comforting, as if touch alone could absolve him of any guilt. So much easier for her to be a distant hope. Yet, Jamie clasped her hand tightly to his, the heat startling to her cooled skin but not painful.

“Till you, Sorcha.” He gave her lopsided smile, saddened but genuine. “Why did ye help me, would you have not suffered his wrath as well?”

Claire shook her head. “For better or worse a wish cannot be undone. Besides, no one pays much attention to me and even if He did find out I hadn’t much to lose.” His eyes of fathomless blue bore into his cherished star, wondering how she of all souls could feel such a way.

Further words halted as sunrise broke and pierced the sky in streaks of rich ocher and violet. A promise of another day of sun at it’s fullest, loving and bright that only made Jamie more ashamed of his resentment, bitter and harsh. He truly would never know his father. A man he had never met but admittedly he horribly missed.

Claire stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, softly, softly. She smelled of apples, of grass and the wooly scents of his tartan cloth. He breathed deeply, greedily.

“He must be happy today.” Claire whispered.

“I hope so.” Jamie whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting from my phone so please excuse the formatting if it's wonky. I can't tell. 
> 
> Originally all three parts were just one long chapter but it works better this way, I think. 
> 
> Onward to Ned Gowan and out of these damn woods. I can’t describe trees and grass anymore.
> 
> And....the line didn't make it but I will hammer it into the next chapter! I don't care how awkward the fit. It's happening! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who supports this story and my anxious mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN CASE YOU MISSED IT, READ THE LAST CHAPTER THAT COVERS JAMIE'S DAD.

 

While Claire had slept in bouts of naps - not used to sleeping at night and drowsy during the day - Jamie had tested himself much like his early days of scrounging around in soil, touching every fern and vine and seed. He sat hunched over on a mossy log holding a piece of rotted twig, rolling it between his hands and focusing his will hoping to ignite a flame. This resulted only in stinging splinters that lodged deep into his palms and for the strip of wood to gain color and curl it’s sprouting roots along his wrist.

Jamie had the makings of miniature forest at his feet by the time Claire awakened and found him muttering to himself. She had walked softly behind him just at his shoulder and leaned down to inquire what exactly he was up to. Her warm breath was a question on his neck that startled and shot straight to his fingertips.

The flame caught. Instantly.

“A Dhia!”

The scrap of pine reduced to smoke and cinders in Jamie’s hands that spilled to his breeks. Claire was fast to brush away the hot ash off his thigh that lifted in a cloud.

That Jamie felt. Down to every point, of every limb, of every nerve, most notably and horribly on his face.

“Were you trying to singe your features off?” Claire reprimanded with a pointed look, dusting off her hands of soot and completely unaware of the direct cause of his reddened face.

“No.” Jamie replied as she sat next to him, giving her his own look hoping it hid his flustered state. “It’s only if I'am to see you to yer proper place I must prepare for what that entails.”

“I never asked that of you, expected you to go beyond what was decent.” That was a lie. Claire hadn’t expected him to abandon her once they reached Inbhir Nis. She knew his heart, of his kindness and honor. The boy she always had an affectionate tenderness for would take the world on for whoever was in need and Claire felt a burden to one still so young. “Continuing to bind yourself to me means finding another blood thirsty witch or something far worse.”

“I have given ye my devotion since the very first. My star who has been my true north, how can ye doubt me?” Her seemingly lack of faith in him was another thorned coil around Jamie’s already wounded heart and Claire resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and ask forgiveness of the only friend she had ever known. Instead she fixed her gaze to the pile of shrubbery at their feet.

“Jamie, I only meant -” Claire was cutoff by Jamie unsheathing his dirk secured at his waist, clutching the hilt till his knuckles shone white against his ruddy skin.

“I swear by the holy iron that I hold to give ye my fealty and if I ever I should fail ye I ask that this holy iron pierce my heart.” Jamie lowered the dirk, kissed the blade that left a silver tang on his lips before handing it to Claire.“I dinna make hollow vows, Sorcha. Now keep it with ye.”

“In case you dishonor me?” Claire asked the size of the weighty weapon an awkward fit in her hands. “You think I would really use this on you?”

“No, but then again I saved yer heart from the grips of a witches claw and ye nearly caved my heid in with a rock. Then there was the apple -”

“So I just point and thrust?” Claire gave a practice swipe in the air, then another a bit closer to the man whose lips twitched at the corners and eyes filled with mirth smartly kept in check.

“Quickly, under the ribs at the back and yer wicked fiend will be no more.” He instructed and placed his hand gently over hers, valuing his nose. The touch lingered long enough for Claire to bring it to her lap back to the path where their conversation started.

“You’ve done me great honor already, Jamie. More then anyone ever has, before you ever saw my face or knew my name. But loyalty and trust go both ways. If we must face a threat it will be together and that is my sworn vow to you, James Fraser.”

“Finer then scripture, Sorcha.”

______

_Inbhir Nis  
Evening_

 

Ned was roused from dreams of water nymphs whispering the secrets of sunken paradises shared in a breathless kiss by a rattling at the door.

With a silly grin plastered on his wrinkled sweet face he rubbed his eyes of sleeps soot, lit a wick with no magical flame to cast him back to bliss and gingerly placed his spectacles from the nightstand to the bridge of his nose.

Modesty suitably robed, he opened the door to a comely chambermaid with word of a friend to see him waiting just below.

Ned, slapped his bones and quickly dressed, nearly tipping over a vase of wilted stems and lighted candlestick, even his own two legs, giddy with relief. The lad was alive. Thank every God, he lived!

 

______

 

Ned hurried down the stairs, squinting his eyes no matter the glass that magnified his vision and scanned the dank tavern for -

There he was! Blasted, waves of flaming hair with head on forward and all limbs accounted for, walking towards him, long confident stride and all.

“Ye, sleep above a tavern?” Jamie’s smile was wide and full of mirth.

“Madame Jeanne was booked.” Ned replied, feigning a suffering sigh.

“A friend of yers?” The younger man innocently asked, head tilted in question.

Any pause at how Ned had sent a literal babe to the dark embrace of woods was left for another, more entertaining day as he hugged the towering lad with a mighty slap on his back that Jamie returned in kind.

“You seem surprised for a man who held such confidence of my triumph.” Jamie cocked a brow taking in the man’s countenance.

“Well from what you’ve told me, you two numpties hadn’t much of a plan to begin with.” A woman’s voice chimed from behind the broad back of Jamie.

“Och, pardon my manners,” Jamie gripped the smaller man’s shoulder and gave it a shake.“ _Mo charaid_ this is Claire, a woman of great importance.”

Ned peered past Jamie to see a woman golden eyed and fair. Her hair was curled and wild as a woodland faerie, garbed in dress of mist that cloaked the moors, dirtied here and there and so foreign to his eyes. When his gaze trailed further down he saw her footing wrapped in cloth, yet for all her rather vagabond state, she hadn’t a care as her rosy lips curled bright.

She, of otherworldly perfection.

“Was it you who enchanted this boy? Did he find you sleeping in lakes of twilight or up above the mystic rowans boughs? Are you the reason he still breathes?”

“I come from no waters that flow in lakes or oceans nor from trees of mother divinity. I dwell in a place much higher and greater, I dare say.” Claire looked to Jamie, a smile shared between the two as she played along.

Jamie nodded his head over to a familiar table.“We should sit and maybe have a bit of drink as well.”

 

___

 

Jamie told Ned of finding the Ban-druidh through the soundless copse of trees, of sword- not fire - being used for her much deserved demise that had Jamie downing the cool drink at hand. Then the telling moved to a soul stolen away from the shroud of night, whose light was to be forever smothered by the mortal world. A stranded star before them now.

Ned had never been so delighted in all his age. No cup touched his lips. A moment to be remembered clear and whole. However…

“Another candle?” The small man looked rather sick to the two faces that stared back at him. Rather green, Claire mused, as she stirred her finger in the substance, unsure if she should take the plunge and taste what must surely be a bitter liquid.

“Doesna have to be another. Any object or incantation, anything that can aid us will do.” Jamie implored to Ned.

“I ken I’ve asked a great deal from ye but you have traveled more then I, have an understanding of such things that far surpasses my own. You need no’ trouble yourself with our plight past any word ye give  at this table.”

Ned’s brows shot up in offense.

“A kindred spirit I called ye and still consider to be. No matter the protest of these auld bones ye both have me at the ready.” Ned raised his cup, sloshing the contents of his own promise of loyalty that the two greatly welcomed.

“Now, I may know a way or at least another with a finer mind then I. He’s an odd fellow by the name of Master Raymond. Shorter then I, rather resembled a frog but I warn you, cunning in every word and action for his sole benefit. The issue though is that he lives in _Pari-sii._ ” Ned smiled at Claire, _La Ville Lumière._ This may be serendipitous for us.“

"We would have to take sail then.” Claire beamed and gripped Jamie’s arm, giving it a back and forth tug. “I’ve never been to the sea, smelled the air of salt nor even - ” Claire slightly faltered in realization.“ Nor even swam. How wonderful it would be.” Her face was full of wonder at the possibilities now open to her.

“It’s terrible.” Jamie moaned running a hand from face to auburn locks at remembering the one time he ventured to _Coigach_ and swam against an unforgiving tide that left him wretching.“ It’s a stench of brined fish that clings to yer skin and nose night and day.”

Claire dismissed his lack of enthusiasm and barraged Ned with questions of roving seas and cities far larger then Inbhir Nis packed with people of every walk of life.

“M’ dear Claire, are ye sure you want to fly home so soon?” Ned had jested.

“Of course I do.” She spoke defensively earning a regarding glance from Jamie. “I don’t see why I can’t enjoy myself along the way?”

Before her world narrowed to a single point in space that beckoned her and haunted her at night. A feeling of longing that would melt away with sunrise as it kissed her skin and awakened Jamie, a drowsy mornin’ gracing his lips.

“Rightly so. The whole world awaits us, but first let us celebrate you and the lads survival with another round.” Ned departed with a noticeable bounce to his step that creaked the floor boards beneath.

Claire turned to Jamie his forefinger tapping the rim of his cup.

“What is it? Can the waves be really that abhorrent?” She teased.

“Aye it can and more so, though that’s no’ what’s fully on my mind. It’s my mother. I must go home and speak to her of what ye shared with me, especially now that we must take to the sea. A scratch on parchment willna do, I must see her in person and make plans to care for her even if she argues like a banshee that she needs no’ assistance.” And she will.

“Of course. Go to her, Jamie.” She encouraged.

“Arrangements still need to be made for passage to Gaul. I’m sure Ned would'na mind yer company, he might insist on it.” Jamie grinned then quickly turned pink. “Or if yer no’ tired of me ye could go wi’ me to Lallybroch. It’s no’ much to see in ways of folk or grandeur just the same hills ye’ve seen before…” He trailed off with a mumbled ‘but only if ye like.’

“The same hills you wished were covered in lavender and heather for the flutterbys and bee’s to feast upon? How they stretched to the horizon to meet the mountains? If so I would like nothing more.” She answered resolutely.

Jamie cleared his throat of every word passed in lonely nights of prayer to her and hoped Ned would hurry on.

“Then it’s settled, Sorcha.”

With that, Claire finally took a cautious sip and much like the juice of the apple that she had devoured with barely a care for air, she felt her body sing with pleasure. More so. And more so still.

“Good whiskey, aye?” Jamie asked, watching Claire’s rapturous enjoyment spread along her face.

“Can we bring this when we leave?”

 

______

 

Ned had given Claire his room, which she retired to earlier with a promise of a bath that left her sighing’ while Jamie took the smaller one opposite hers. When asked where he would sleep Ned had waved his hands with a cheeky grin, something about a lucky day, and bid him goodnight.

Jamie climbed the long winding stairs, an endless torture to a body eager for bed, and wobbled slightly at the top in decision. Before sense could reach his brain he walked down the hall to a door that he had no key for and knocked.

The door opened wide and Jamie wished he had listened to sense.

Claire wore an oversized robe over a clean white shift. Her porcelain skin, scrubbed clean and fresh, peeked along her neck and legs while her hair was still an intimidating thunder he itched to touch, all framed by a budding fire.

She caught his staring and pulled at the robe as if to curtsy, informing him the clothing had been procured by Ned, ever the gentleman.

“I dinna mean to bother ye.” His eyes looking for a distraction that wasn’t front and center. “I only meant to tell you I’ll be just 'cross the hall if ye need me.”

“Stay for a moment longer, please?” Claire pulled at his arm.“ Nights are still like day for me and the whiskey, however fine, did nothing to aid me.”

“Ye ken it wouldna be proper.” Claire rolled her eyes of spiced honey or was it burnished gold. Rich, heady whiskey of the night, as they whittled away any notions of propriety.

“We’re above a tavern and your friend is currently housed in a bawdy house of joy.” She laughed at seeing Jamie’s brows arch past his hairline. “We’ve slept next to each other these past few days what’s another hour.”

Letting out a breathy exhale as an answer, Claire plopped down and padded the space next to her on the soft feather bed. Jamie joined her stiff as an aldur, his weight sinking the bed, rolling Claire into his shoulder and in response she twined her arm with his. Natural and innocent as his cheetie Adso when he’d curl in his lap dozy from milk, but a deepening intimacy all the same and he sank further into the sheets, breath a little more shallow.

“Shall I tell ye a story to droop yer eyes? Or maybe a healthy debate of who Thistle is more fond of?”

“There’s no debate, Thistle is in love with me and we plan on going off into the sunset together.” Claire chuckled into his sleeve, enjoying the warmth of him that put the hearth to shame.

“So story is it? What could I say to a star who has seen all. Ye surely ken all the sonnets, every myth before it became so, every hero when they were but a bairn.” Jamie tipped his head back to the headboard, staring at a crack in the ceiling that resembled the crest of hills of home.

“We stars aren’t voyeurs and your world isn’t the only one of interest.”

Jamie quirked his head up, full of curiosity. “Do folk walk on their hands and speak in clicks and whistles or do they soar free, gilded in feathers like proper popinjays?” Claire thumbed the cuff of his sleeve, grimed and fraying at the edges.

“More like vast stretches of empty plains and mountainous glaciers of numbing blue that cover the whole of planets and moons. Skies of smoky embers, others of gaseous smog, dense and stormy. It’s beautiful, quiet, souless with no one to live and thrive there.” Her voice was somber and far away as she spoke, drawing shapes and curves on his still splintered palm, lost in vibrance of hues and places that he could never see. That she may never see again.

“What must ye think of us lowly lot compared to infinity.” Jamie’s low timbre shook her out of reverie. He captured her idle fingers threading them with his, bringing her to the present.

“You _lowly lot_ have an unrivaled beauty all your own. Even if you tend to ruin yourselves more often then not.”

“Did ye look upon me, past the nights I spoke wi’ ye?” He whispered.

“Only when you called.” She untangled herself away from him and propped up against her hand, springing back to humor. “And the few times you asked for the strength of twenty men to best those horrid boys who harassed you.”

“Was that you then?” Jamie turned and mirrored her frame, blue eyes shining at the memory of giving Rabbie and his brothers more of a bloody brawl then a scuffle.

“Sadly, no. I can’t grant harm, death or love and you wanted to break their arms and fling them over the mountain tops. I couldn’t make it true no matter if the brutes deserved it.” Claire tucked a tawny lock behind her ear and coyly added,“ However, I had to peek to see if you prevailed or not.”

“Aye, and what did ye think? Did I entertain ye?” He asked.

“You walloped them splendidly.” Claire giggled falling back into the bed. Jamie was pleased at that. Smug, the more Claire laughed till her face stained of wine.

The soft crackle and hiss of fire filled the air as laughter died down, a pleasant peace. Claire looked to the squiggled line overhead that reminded her of aquarius and a question was brought forward.

“There is one thing unknown to me, to all of us, that I’ve always been curious about?”

“Aye?”

“How did your mother and father meet?”

“Ye dinna ken?”

“Your father kept what he was doing from prying eyes. Set every God and star in panic that he was in rebellion and bent on chaos.” Claire shuddered at the memory.

“It wasna like that.” Jamie shook his head.“ He only wanted a kiss from his beloved, no other request he asked of her and she agreed, completely smitten by a man of fire. "He could hear his mother’s voice consumed with love in countless retellings.” Their souls became one, lived a lifetime of happiness, sorrow and love in that kiss. Tis why she accepted his gift, a ray of their flaming hearts. _Me_.“ He scoffed unconvincingly, even to his own ears.

Claire’s hand echoed their first meeting and caressed him from temple to cheek. Jame leaned into her touch and held it in place, seeking her strength as he always did.

A raucous chorus from down the hallway had them jumping away from one another in a fluster and Jamie took it as a sign. He left the bed, strode to the the door, boots heavy and hard against the floor, when her voice broke his stride.

"Jamie, out of all the others, why on me did you call?”

He paused before turning to her, his eyes catching the glare of the hearth enriching them to a fierce blue.

“You were nestled between Sirius and Canopus, they burned like white fire, loud and obnoxious but you - you had a gentle glow about ye like a halo. I thought ye heavenly and maybe a friend who would listen,” he smiled. “And ye did.”

“Sweet dreams _Prìseil Sorcha_.” Jamie made a small bow of his head and softly closed the door.

Claire pressed her palms to her heated cheeks, fingertips brushing against dampen lashes as she turned back to the bed where they had just laid side by side, when her eyes caught the blue vase of wilted flowers. The stalks were vibrant green and tall. The flowers were overgrown with bloom shaded in sapphires, rubies and amethysts. Claire traced their petals of silk, every stroke gaining traction in her heart mingling with his words of…

She became illuminated, a loving glow that grew brighter and brighter with every thrum of a heart beating stronger and stronger.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> * Parisii is the ancient name for Paris
> 
> * The first woman was thought to come from a Rowan tree in norse mythology hence mother divinity. First man, ash tree.
> 
> So I got a comment from a certain someone how I should stop deleting stuff. So here is a messy chapter warts and all just for you Mizzmo. All the stuff I deleted from parts 2 and 3.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this story!!! You lasses make my day!


	8. Chapter 8

The dark hours had been cruel to Claire. Her mind had swirled in questions while her heart had pumped in a taunting rhythm of the inevitable truth that came with every pulse of light.

But with that truth came confusion and doubt growing inside her and the daze of starlight smothered to a dullness and then nothing, leaving her heart a slow throb.

Claire scolded herself for taking his kindness and letting it grow past affection to what filled her heart to a wholeness.

But was it just kindness and friendship he held for her? The way Jamie had looked at her as he bid her goodnight, was it just one of awe and devotion or was it the way she feared her gaze would fall on him now? If only she could hear the voice of his soul to set her own at ease. Or send it to the point of fracturing.

And what of home? An endless kingdom of sky calling her to it’s sheltering embrace away from the turmoil in her chest.

Unanswered questions kept her anxious through the night, her emotions rising and falling with every breath filled with his bloom and the cinders of the hearth. Dawn came and went, the morning sun rose high and the patter of life out her window below urged Claire forward. But it was a soft tread just outside her room that raised her out of twisted sheets to the cold wooden floor that creaked under her bare soles.

  
It was leaning against the door when she opened it and had plopped down at her feet. A parcel wrapped in brown paper, heavily creased from folding and refolding, tied with twine in a too small bow near a knot.

There was no question as to who placed it there. She looked shyly across the hall wondering if he was just beyond the door waiting for her to wake in discovery. Maybe he was down below, mind set to preparation for the day with Ned over a dram.

Clutching the package, Claire retreated back into her room and sat on the edge of the bed, tracing the odd angles jutting out leaving no hint to what was concealed. She pulled at the string, twirling it around her fingers as it loosened to reveal the contents.

Leather boots. Black. Ordinary. No embellishments.

Perfect.

The heaviness weighing on her heart lifted with cheeks so flushed they ached. Claire slipped on the boots, the fitting seamless. She admired the shine of the polished material near slick to the touch, and how when standing they gave her an inch more perspective to her height. Two if she stood tiptoe. Maybe she could reach past his shoulder now. No longer having to crane her neck to see his lopsided grin of jest or the way his eyes would crinkle at the edges when their eyes met, happiness exuding from them.

Her veins began to tingle like the hum of a beehive, spreading to her porcelain skin in a melting warmth, the promise to consume so very tempting. Claire shut her eyes and pressed her hands to her chest that pushed wildly back in defiance.

Not now, she pleaded, concentrating, stilling the light within.

The day was getting on and travels on horseback awaited her. Giving a final glance to the vase of flowers that smelled of sweet spring she left the room to find Jamie, though she didn’t need to look far.

He was directly at the foot of the stairs, fingers tapping so madly at his thigh he was set to wear a hole in his breeks. Claire treaded softly down the stairs but her steps were no longer silent to his ears. Jamie twitched as he turned to her with a quick glance to her footing with a smile she could only describe as relief.

Had he worried so over the fit?

Jamie climbed up the stairs to meet her, catching a flicker of shine along the length of him, from where Claire could not tell. He stood just below so that he looked up to her, their hands were a hairsbreadth from one another, gripping the banister that had Claire fighting the urge to withdraw her own.

“Did I keep you waiting?” She asked knowing full well she had.

“Nay, busied myself with a few errands while ye dozed and dozed.” He winked in his patented way that had her lips curling upward. An anxious knot in her belly unraveling.

“I ken they’re no’ much in way of looks -”  
  
“They’re lovely Jamie.” That earned her a flush of red from Jaime’s cheeks that hers terribly returned in kind. She quickly added, “Much more practical then strips of cloth and no more fearing of another brush with nettles.” If Jamie had any inkling of how he affected her he didn’t show it, instead he bowed his head in modesty and Claire took note of the whirl of his cowlick, the roots bleached from years outdoors.

“Weel, I couldna have ye prancing ‘bout the highlands like a pauper and I hadna much coin left after I purchased us a horse. Gideon.” Jamie rolled his eyes and shoved his hair from his face. “Cost me more then what’s decent and the wee scoundrel has taken to nipping yer Thistle on the rump.”

Seeing Claire’s mouth part ready to unleash a riot Jamie informed her the mare had thrashed the lad solid and she’d be proud of her.

They walked down the stairs, side by side and Claire could feel the graze of fingers at the small of her back. Barely a touch, too timid to press the whole of a hand to guide her down and Claire sought for a break and found it in the absence of their small gentleman friend.

“Where’s Ned?” She looked back behind her to the scattered few men who lined the counters of the tavern, heads bent over in agonized regret. The bedraggled and wasted, who looked the same as the ones from the night before that drank merrily with her cup for cup. She never felt the effects but apparently she very nearly killed them.

“He’s waiting fer us at Moubray’s where we’ll have ourselves a breakfast, hot and dripping with butter that will leave yer mouth and chin shining.” Jamie patted his stomach, prepping the empty vessel for hot bannocks and thick slabs of meat slathered in vats of buttery gold. “A proper send off to spoil us both, Ned said.”

She merely nodded along and hoped the days to would go fast and the flutter dancing in her chest would calm and cease with sense and logic. 

 

______

 

Jamie hoped the days he had left with Claire would be ever long and vast.

He had waited through a sleepless night and restless morning where she was shut away in  dreams. Where his veins coursed with the heavy warmth that had intensified with every gift of gentleness she had ever given him. That sent his pulse to madness when they laid so close, their breath mingling, brushing against cheeks and lips. Jamie had thrown his heart into the pyre she had stoked ready to be consumed that very moment  
For he knew the simple truth of his affliction, one his mother had described over and over to him.

And he would be her devoted always, even when she would leave.

Forever out of his reach from the roots that bound him to the earth.

A selfish regret rippled through his blood of the impending reality of his vow when made true. It caused painful spasms in his chest where he could scarcely breath and the only cure had been to be in her presence. To see her joyous near glowing, the roll of her eyes when vexed, her touch however fleeting.

But since they left Inbhir Nis, Jamie had noticed the excitement of travels abroad and even of Lallybroch that had been sparked in Claire had become softly muted.

He had thought it only a minor trouble, nothing that she wouldn’t eventually divulge to him. Claire still smiled and laughed whenever they talked to one another in their moments of idleness from horseback. Jamie, of stories he grew up with and Claire filling in the details of where the hand of man had embellished and faltered in the telling. Some though she had never heard of, those were the ones passed on from storyteller to storyteller never written down but whispered over fires or a child’s bedside that had captured her attention if for only a moment.

But then the tale would end and an unnatural silence would fall between them, her mind set elsewhere. So where words could not amend the change in her, Jamie set himself to appeal to her curiosity of the wilderness, determined to draw out the cause.

He showed her the way to track the prints of rabbits and deer in dewy, open fields, finding them foraging and grazing in leisure, unaware of gazers in the bush. The crease between her brows relaxed and for a moment as she laid flat against the soil she was as he knew her to be. At peace.

But then the animals ears would flatten, alert to an unknown threat and the long eared fluff would scamper to it’s burrow, the long legged doe would set off to the safety of trees and the dullness returned to Claire’s amber eyes.

Jamie hadn’t wanted to confront her outright, to pressure her to tell him of what ailed her but days had gone by, so close to Lallybroch. He decided to approach her as she saddled up Thistle, murmuring about his foul Gideon.

“Whatever is causing ye grief you can tell me, Claire.” She had stopped her ministrations with a flinch, her eyes fixed ahead of her hesitant in meeting his.

“I dinna mean to intrude, yer mind is yers alone. I only wish to carry whatever burden ye have, for you to trust me to ease yer heart. If ye desire me to, Sorcha.”

Jamie saw her ribs expand with a weighty breath that shook her slender frame and if she hadn’t spoken that very moment he would have held her to him until the tremor passed.

“You could, maybe so or…but I’m not quite prepared to speak it aloud. I assure you it’s nothing horrible, it’s silliness really that I hope will pass. Can you accept that?”

“I dinna care to see you so alone inside yerself but if I must bide till yer ready then I shall.”

His palm opened wide between them with a promise to abide and to seek a warmth so dearly missed.

Hers timidly rose, fingers sweeping along his callouses before being enclosed in a caress that wasn’t nearly enough.

Yet, for what it lacked in wanting both felt the tension lessen, weaken. Left to wonder if the other would be bothered for a more daring embrace.

 

_________

 

There wasn’t a stretch of cloud to lessen the rays that seeped past cloth to crisp the skin.

Claire could feel her hair frizzing for escape as moisture slid down her neck. She fanned herself to no avail while her other hand was damp and slippery on Thistles reins.

“Aye, can’t recall seeing so much blue amongst the sky and **_He,_** so full and burning. Tis verra odd.” Jamie remarked seeing Claire’s efforts to create a cooling breeze.

“I just wish he wasn’t so exuberant.” While she thought the mortal world fine and thrilling Claire didn’t give a fig for it’s weather.

“Dinna fash, Sorcha. We will suffer no more.” Jamie cocked his chin up ahead"If ye squint yer hawk eyes ye’ll see.“

Shielding her eyes Claire looked off into the distance, past tall blades of grass woven with lavender and heather that waved in the wind and saw a thatched roof cottage. Small, inviting –

"Lallybroch.”

A grin plastered on Jamie’s face and off in a gallop he and Gideon went, with a call over his shoulder for Claire to hurry on her sloth of a steed.

Down the slope of hills sprawled in life that Jamie had pressed a hand to they raced meeting at the wooden post by the coop. Two wee fools gloated in triumph.

Tying the horses up, Jamie dusted the dirt away from his clothing and kicked his boots against the post to wedge away the muck. He looked over to Claire who was doing the same and combing her unruly curls with her fingers, sighing at her vain efforts to tame the nest of tangles. There were always tangles.

“She’ll like ye fine, Claire. Yer a bonny sight.”

Claire gave him an unconvinced look even if the compliment had her biting her lower lip. She smoothed her hair one last time before following Jamie in to the stone cottage. He made no move to duck his head with worry of splintering pain, the door frame was built high and wide for it’s two occupants of stately height.

They were greeted with sweet and peppery aromas that wafted thick from the kitchen, mixing with the fragrance of roses, rich in reds, bright in yellows, on the mantle.

They lifted their faces to a purring Adso, who scampered to them from his perch on the ceiling beams. Jamie bent to take his cheetie in arm but Adso crossed between his legs to Claire, meowing loudly in curiosity as he circled her, questioning friend or foe.

“ _Mo sheann duine, a bheil thu_?” A voice happy, sounding of love rang out from the kitchen.

With long strides forward and turn of a corner, Jamie found his mother sitting at the table snapping pods. Her hair was tied up, skin once a creamy white now tanned and spotted, bathed in sunlight.

“No, tis yer dirt ridden son, back from his walkabout.” Jamie replied cheekily.

Ellen nearly dropped the bowl of beans from her lap when she jumped to her feet. She threw her arms round his shoulders and kissed him on his temple, mussing his wavy mane that had him groaning but he hugged her just as tightly.

“What are you doing home and what have ye done to yer clothes?” Ellen plucked at fraying at his collar, clicking her tongue in disdain at the state of him with only her eyes of deeply blue showing the mirth.

“I thought ye be pleased seeing yer only son or maybe ye’ve barely noticed my absence. Has anyone been distracting ye mam?” He gave her a wicked grin and glanced around the room. Did Murtagh make good on their time alone together?

Ellen, never one to be flustered, schooled her face to marble until she noticed the brown haired beauty, flushed from sun, standing at the doorway.

“Who’s this now? Have ye finally found yerself a lass, _mo mhac_?” Ellen looked between the two, beaming.

“She’s Claire –”

“A friend –”

“Oh.”

Disappointment crossed every face in the room except Ellens. Hers was cast with curious intent as she gestured for Claire and Jamie to take a seat.

“Weel just the same, how did my wee cockerel come to find ye, Claire and not to mention bring ye home wi’ him?” Ellen asked, thoroughly amused and unashamed at the fidgety two before her.

But, a string of gaelic curses interrupted them to Jamie and Claire’s relief and to Ellen’s minor annoyance. Murtagh walked in, thumb in mouth with Adso running under his mistress’ skirt. Threat’s of skinning fell silent when his eyes landed on Jamie.

“Yer home, lad.” Murtaghs face went warm at seeing Jamie, then rigid when his dark eyes met amber.

“Our Jamie has also brought with him a friend.”

Claire stared at the man that was Jamie’s godfather and felt rather faint. He was hunched over just so that made him look smaller. Thickly Haired that made him look unkept. The frown that seemed etched in his skin aged him in such a way that she found herself in complete disbelief.

“Is everything alright, Sorcha? You look pale as a fetch.”

Murtagh with the barest of movements, shook his head in silent plea.

“I’m fine.” Claire replied, tearing her eyes from the older man to Jamie’s concerned face.

“Must have been the sun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I could not wrap my head around structuring or wording this at all (I lost all english comprehension)!!! So if there are any wonky bits it’s because I’ve read this chapter too many times and am numb to the words. 
> 
> As to this ending with Murtagh….if you don’t like it blame David Eddings and Cary Grant. They inspired it.
> 
> Part two will hopefully be done by the next week since I couldn't finish this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

 

  
_Previously_ :

 

"Is everything alright, Sorcha? You look pale as a fetch."

Murtagh with the barest of movements, shook his head in silent plea.

"I'm fine." Claire replied, tearing her eyes from the older man to Jamie's concerned face.

"Must have been the sun."

  
_____

 

Claire smiled awkwardly as all eyes were on her, searching for the lies she was sure were written plainly on her face.

"Indeed. Folk all over have been touched by it, keeling over like flies out in the fields. Dangerous it is to be out in it's full glare and on horseback no less." Ellen gave Jamie a look of disapproval that went unnoticed, as his eyes were fixed on Claire.

"Ye do look faint, Sorcha." Jamie brushed his knuckles to Claire's cheeks, a fevered tinge of pink from brow to nape that he found alarming.

"A lie down will do her well, aye lass?" Murtagh interjected, his tone leaving no room for disagreements as Claire felt the pull of submission to one as high as he.

"Yes, that's just the thing." Claire nodded, assuring the two redheads who seemed ready to throw her in a chilly loch.

"I'll put ye in Jamie's room." Murtagh insisted which Jamie began to protest wanting to take her himself, but Claire held up her hand in protest. He had come home for a reason, she reminded.

With a begrudging acceptance from Jamie, Claire excused herself and with a wary eye allowed Murtagh to guide the way.

 

_____

 

Claire was brought to a room that smelled of fresh, sharp pine and faintly of a cat who 'happened' upon an empty bed for his taking. There was a chest along the wall peppered with bits and bobs from youthful exploration. Colored pebbles and stones, chipped spiral shells of whitish pink and an oval speckled one of green crossed with yellow. Not to mention the balls of tangled string. Why he would need any of it was a mystery but she couldn't help but wonder what hid behind the drawers. Charms against malevolent spirits or oddities like a withered moles foot hidden amongst the shirts?

Books were in every corner - on the windowsill fading the leather with spines of loosened stitching, stacked on shelves threatening to fall just to be read and what looked to be one tucked under a pillow of a long bed in the corner. A favorite he hoped to dream of, perhaps?

Claire felt the awful need to touch every point in the room to share the secret that had been at Jamie's side all along. But the door closed behind her with a soft thud and the presence of another prevented her from unburdening the knowledge that stabbed sharply at her breast.

The man's face looked to have aged five times over since they were in the kitchen when Claire turned to him. His mouth was so thin a line his coarse bush of beard covered them whole, black brows so tightly knit they seemed unified in their worriment, and the familiar steady beat of fingers that she had the sudden urge to hold steady.

 _"A 'Bhrian?_ " Claire asked in a hush even though she knew the answer.

Without a word Bhrian silently nodded, the fingers at his side losing their rhythm.

Maybe it was the vulnerability he displayed or how changed his appearance was to her but Claire felt the tumble of words fall out of her mouth not caring that he was a God and she, but a speck in oblivion.

"How could you be so reckless to defy his law again? He was being lenient with you before but now…" Claire felt her throat restrict and dry thinking of the two in the other room, where Jamie was sharing an unknowing lie of his father's fate.

"Tis none of your concern, Rionnag bheag. You will do as I say and quiet yourself." Bhrian warned her all but losing his thick brogue. His eyes darted to the door and beyond to the people it did involve and shouldn't, couldn't know.

"None of my - " Claire glared at the command and what to her was a belittling endearment even as her chest pounded erratically at a being who could cease her living with a glance.

"Whenever your son's heart is gripped with sorrow he calls out to my own. To speak to me, pray to me. I would give Jamie all that I am to relieve him of any anguish. So yes, it is of my concern."

"And who do ye think his mother prays to?"

The glistening rays that streamed through the window faded to a solemn dusk as Bhrian's voice cracked. "I will speak no more of this and neither will you to they. My time here is short as well as yours is now. We both must go to our lives as they were meant to be."

 _A 'Bhrian_ left her standing alone, heart lurching in a chaotic beat, with Adso scratching fervently at the door.

 

______

 

Jamie walked quietly to his room careful of creaky floorboards and the clank of the iron handle as he turned it. Inside the dim room he saw a candle was lit, the flame too small to cast out the shadows but enough to lend it's sparse light to the ruffle of Claire's soft hair and outline the sweep of curves that sat atop the quilts. Adso was smug in her lap, experiencing waves of affection fit for a braw cheetie such as himself.

"Did ye have a fine time nosing 'bout my room?" His eyes narrowed in accusation but the turn of his lips suggested otherwise. "Anything catch yer fancy?"

Claire couldnt help the tug at her lips and replied matching his features.

"Nothing much I didn't know already. You have a mind for worlds set elsewhere, though your taste in literature is something to be desired. As does your interest in rocks."

Jamie walked over to the chest, thumbing the objects that had caught his eye for their colors or how the smooth or jagged shapes felt in his hand.

"Weel, my heid is made out of solid stone like my brethren here." Claire agreed emphatically while the corners of Jamie's mouth twitched. "And elsewhere seemed to have more promise for salvation. I was right about that, aye?" This time his answer was the flush of Claire's cheeks that the shadows couldn't conceal.

Seeing her disarmed Jamie was ready to broach the subject of her well being but Claire queried about his mothers, her voice sounding booming in the quiet stillness. Jamie sat on the edge of the bed facing her, his hands stretched out on his knees.

Ellen, he began, with multiple swipes of his head when he told her of his true intent when he left the farm followed by wide-eyed awe of the kindle that had laid dormant inside his blood. Then came the pour of drink with the dispiriting answers of He, who despite all the years she had hoped to see again. She sat stoic with questions here and there that did nothing to diminish the blow she had received until it came to Claire.

"She finds ye to be most wondrous, Claire and would like to speak more to the lass who has been such a blessing to us Fraser's over supper."

Adso's ears perked at the mention of food and curled closer to Claire, who continued to stroke the silver silkiness behind the cats ear as he purred in encouragement and stretched for more.

"Beware, my wee glutton is trying to sweet ye out of yer helping." Jamie teased his cheetie along it's paw, the nails unsheathing and then quickly retracting as Claire ran her fingers along his spine that arched in response.

"Adso can have my share, I haven't much of an appetite." She couldn't bear with praises to pile on the bubbling guilt.

Jamie caressed her cheek while the pad of his thumb skimmed along her smooth skin. Claire assumed Jamie was merely feeling for a fever as her palm met his wrist and where his pulse was surprisingly fast as a long exhale escaped her lips.

"Why must ye lie?"

"I'm not lying." She stated adamantly, regretfully, as Jamie removed his hand to join her other in the warm fur that raised with blissful breathing. He waited a beat, choosing his approach before answering.

"You are." Jamie insisted as his mouth upturned at the corners even if the humor didn't wholly reach his eyes. "You eat without a second thought to breathing and verra near savaged my hand when ye had the buttered bannock sopped in honey at Moubrey's."

Claire searched his face and found his sworn word from days before that he would not press her for more, even if it drove him to frustration. Taking the branch he extended she returned the smile, however small, as the memory left a sweetness inside her.

"You tried to steal from my plate, thief and suffered the consequences that I have yet to regret." Claire gave Jamie a faint pinch at the back of his hand and he shook it away from her in mock injury.

"It was thievery or starvation and I'll gladly risk a digit when it comes to my stomach. We have that in common." This time his smile was true and Jamie took one last shot of persistence.

"At least have some to tea to soothe ye, aye?" He gently offered." You may find it to yer liking as much as any ale or whiskey ye've downed. Or have all three and drink us under the table."

There was no escaping the inevitable without further sending his nerves on edge and Claire relented with a sigh that sent Jamie to go cat-eyed in victory.

"Well, now you have enticed me. Lead the way, Jamie and take note my warning of idle hands."

With a parting scratch to Adso, Claire grabbed Jamie's hand where his long fingers entangled with hers.

 

______

 

Supper however was not to be.

An argument was boiling from the kitchen down to the corridor, nothing new to the walls of Lallybroch. Jamie raised a hand for Claire to stay while he went to try to diffuse whatever mess his godfather stepped in.

"Ye've been out all day and you won't sit with us for supper?" Ellen sounded baffled and Jamie could imagine her hands at her waist standing at full height that even to him could be intimidating.

"Is it her that's the cause?" Jamie paused at the doorway and to his dismay Claire had followed right behind at his side.

"Jamie it's nothing, come away from there please." She pulled at Jamie's forearm to no avail, the rising fervor of him under her hands startling her to dig her her nails deep enough to mark.

"I ken you have a distrust of anything ye can't eat but I dinna think ye an ill mannered - "

"Will ye let me gi' a word in woman, It's no' -"

Jamie came in then, dislodging himself from Claire's iron grasp and would have his own fisted with his godfather's collar if it weren't for the hindrance of a table between them. "If Claire hadn't risked herself at my plea, our fields would be a wasteland still with nothing but weeds to sustain us and I would no' have what is burning my veins raw towards ye now." The burning manifested itself in the crackling hiss of the wooden surface to black under Jamie's palms.

"I will no' have you shaming us, _Goitsdh_."

"Shaming?" The very word a scathing brand delivered to him from his fair haired sire. "Aye that's me. A blight to any souls happiness. A stain to look down on by ones just as she." And him. Murtagh's eyes were of an onyx gleam directed towards his kind with a star unjustly caught in it's path.

"Dinna look at her that way." Jamie's voice was dangerously low as angers ignited in a flash and ran like a current across the table catching on Murtagh's sleeve enveloping instantly.

Ellen was first to grab the pitcher, Jamie crying out in a panic as he was set to leap over the table - all for naught as Claire could only watch as the events unfold.

Murtagh's arm, encased in a furious red hued in blue at it's core, was extinguished by a downward stroke of his hand. His skin unmarred, only the sleeve was a burnt up nothing. Blue eyes all round staring in open mouthed shock.  
  
The billowing smoke slowly dissipated to the open window as silence hung in the air until only one was brave enough to disturb the quiet.

"Who are ye?" Ellen's voice quivered as she held the pitcher still. Unaware? Ready to throw? Didn't matter it would break in a moment.

"Am I much changed from our first meeting?" The corner of Bhrian's mouth lifted most pitiful as his shoulders sagged. "Not so young. Not so resplendent as when I came to ye, mo chridhe, dying for your touch?"

Ellen's hands reached for Jamie's, hers now free as pieces of porcelain scattered the floor and water pooled at her feet. Her eyes brimming with tears searching his face for recognition of the man who left her longing in memories and dreams.

With his head lowered from Ellen's scrutiny of his degraded state, he bowed it further to Claire, who hovered just beyond the settling grey.

"Forgive me, Claire." He sounded remorseful, ashamed. "It's wasn't you my vile temper was towards. The only blame lies within me, my own weakness."

Claire didn't know if she spoke or nodded her head in acknowledgement, her focus was on Jamie. Pale faced, jaw clenched shut that sent the vessels in his neck to rapidly pulsate and firmly at his mother's side keeping her upright.

She stepped away from him and they - the family Fraser.

"From the beginning. Now." Ellen demanded.

Bhrian slunk down into the chair as his legs numbed, the stench of the scorched oakwood, nauseating as he was the target of it's fury. He picked up the story as Claire knew it, that had been passed on from every God and high being to fallen star and man.

He had been given a punishment from the God that was all at once his father, brother, friend. To be imprisoned with haunting dreams so vivid of what was lost to him - where in the span of a heartbeat he had once held and loved holiness herself. It became a torment worse then death that festered and rotted at the core of his molten self. Bhrian begged the high one whose very name meant mercy, to exile him to the low lands of man to the woman who held the cure. But His high one, with a shuddering breath had passed his judgement that could not be overturned even for his firstborn.

Then in Bhrian's endless mourning surrounded by his own diminishment whispers crawled up his spine and circled him with promises of alluring hope…

And so Bhrian found himself inhibiting the mortal world as a man his beloved wouldn't recall. Every few years he was able to serve his family as any man would, in a body that strained with labour no longer effortless, to earn what paltry sum he could. Yet even when his joints stiffened to a gnawing hurt and he was soaked in sweat he felt the poison cease in his blood

"I am a cowardly man as ye can see my loves. I wasn't brave enough to exist without ye and put myself at stake just to be near you both." He finished in a voice so small and hoarse.

"All this time," Ellen murmured. "I thought of you as my one true kin when all my family forsake me. My - who would never lie to me…" Her lower lip was bloodless and trembled. "And now ye'll leave us again?"

"It's no' my will or choice. I'm only allowed so much time here lest the world boil from my happiness and others grows suspicious if they aren't already." A faint weakly smile crossed Bhrians face. "I have a few days, less if ye want me out in the dirt, mo ghràidh."

A few days. Less…

"Gods, I dinna ken what I want to do to ye but stay so I can scream til yer ears bleed and thrash ye till your raw." With words of vowed violence, Ellen then spoke most longingly -

"Stay, _mo Bhrian, mo sheann duine_."

His name on her lips, a scarcity hardly breathed that relit him close to ash. Bhrian was set to weep.

With a sharp intake of air he spoke to his son a child no more.

"And you, Jamie? I know you harbour a justified resentment of me, of that I will not deny. Shall I pick up my sword or will we settle this with fists?" He rubbed his arm, while unblemished, was still reeling in the rare sensation of physical pain and was prepared for more and worse.

"Your gift of sword melted and forged with the earth, unfortunately. Nor have I found it necessary to invest in another, considering." Jamie set his hand on the table palm up."I have no cause to fight ye. I forgave ye by a brook at sunrise." Where his - Jamie swerved his head in search of a pair of amber eyes finding empty space. Did his flash of violence cause her to flee?

"You should go after yer rionnag." Bhrian urged seeing his sons distress, a pain all too familiar." In my haste to keep myself from the two of ye I may have broken her heart. A sin to do so to a daughter of the moon for they lose their radiance." And fall from grace endless till their no more then dust. But Bhrian withheld such dour information to himself.

"I take no offense, _mo mhac._ " Bhrian spoke at Jamie's loyalties splitting him down the middle. "We will have our own time after your mother has her vengeance." Ellen's eyes flared as she smirked and Bhrian felt a shiver go down his spine. With an exchange of words Jamie headed out the door.

"He gets that tenderness from you, ever since he was a bairn, bringing any injured creature his wee hands could grasp. But ye ken that."

"And the strength mightier then a God from ye, mo chridhe. But ye know that."

Then a shyness creeped in that talk could not alleviate- still too great a many conversation that needed to be had - the only resolve was most upfront in Ellen's mind. She rose from her seat to be at Bhrian's side, whose breathing was ragged at her being so near. She touched his hands, nicked and splintered, furred black at the backs with knooby nuckles, hiding their elegance that had at once held her as if she were as holy as he. Ellen pulled them to her now giving him permission to touch her as he pleased.

They stayed where they were, fingers twitching at the fabric, palms broad at her thighs.

Ellen regarded the features of her beloved that lay hidden in a hardened face and underneath a mangy beard she'd swear to shear before dawn. She traced his face from temple to chin and with a grin pinched his longer nose. No, he didn't resemble much of the being of ancient perfection - yet, his eyes and hair were still dark as the veil of night that was overhead, with lips -now thinner - still holding promises of unending delight. Beckoning to her still as he burned rich in adoration, boundless and consuming to the bone.

"May I ask ye for a kiss to take with me to my lonely existence?"

"If ye had'na the scruff I would, but I see have no choice, _mo ghraidh._ "

 

______

 

Claire was walking along the fence covered in sweetly honeysuckle vines and the odd sprout of violet buds that twirled with the white. She hoped all inside Lallybroch were not at one another's throats and as the potent smell of fire had yet to pierce the crisp air, she took it as a sign that all was well.

But still she lingered and would have stayed so, reluctant to interrupt the family finding their way, if it weren't for a heated touch at her shoulder that ran down to cup her elbow, turning her, drawing her near.

Jamie's natural ruddiness was dulled in the twilight, and his brows furrowed with a heavy crease between that gave her heart a stutter. Had it all gone wrong with his father? The hurt of the deceit too deeply rooted?

"Did it not go well with your father?" Claire raised her hand letting her fingers gently grazed the barely there stubble at his chin. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jamie shook his head, keeping her hand firmly to him by her wrist.

"It went more then well and I can hardly believe the truth of it. But you, mo Sorcha, took to the wind and had me worrit that I frightened ye with my temper. Ye must ken I had'na meant for it to happen, that I would never do such a thing."

"I know it, Jamie. A man who has empathy for trees would do no harm to a living soul. But thank you for defending my honor, even if it wasn't necessary." Her fingers had been brushing the curve of his jaw, with every stroke reeling him closer and closer so that he breathed his relief against her face. But only briefly.

"He - my father told me all, Sorcha. Of how ye knew who he was once you saw him, what he asked of ye and -" Jamie paused, trying to repress a forming frown. "Of how he could take ye home. I did vow I would see ye safely to yer proper place, though I figured it would be a ways from now." Months, maybe a year or more. Not days if even that.

Jamie tucked an errant wisp of hair behind her ear that the breeze had whipped about her face. Letting his fingers thread through her brown curls, already missing the way they made her huff in irritation and grow riotous in excitement.

"So did I." Claire croaked not meeting his eye, letting her own fall to the shriveled blades of grass beneath their feet."I never even got to see the ocean with you, see you pickled green with sick from it's briney waves." A smile faded just as it appeared at his spite towards moving waters. "We barely - and to never… " Her voice hitched as her ribs contracted, squeezing her lungs, suppressing words too painful to speak.

But her falter gave Jamie a surge of courage to ask his star for once what she wished for, no matter the answer. His arms came around her tenderly emanating warmth that thawed the vise at her ribs.

"You never asked to be here, to be torn away from all ye knew. Tell me, Sorcha, what does yer heart yearn for and I'll shower ye with all the glory of such a thing."

A choice of path no longer clouded with confusion and doubt or fear of what stirred at her breast.

"All my heart desires, that overwhelms me with such wanting, such happiness and so much love is you, Jamie. The only soul who ever looked upon me and saw hope, you who gave me second life." A confession so freeing even as it left Claire's heart hammering with breathlessness.

An ache so acutely echoed in that very same soul whose eyes of blue so like the core of impassioned fires sought hers and Claire had the dawning realization that she was never to be alone.

Her heart began to hum.

Jamie's hands splayed at Claire's back throbbed hot and gathered her to him till their heads were bent to one another. Where their chests heaved together, breath dizzied one another and all else was blotted away.

"Even if I canna adorn ye with the hallowed rings of _Satárn?_ For all that my two hands are capable of they only offer ye a farmers life or of a wanderer sleeping in heather."

Did he truly think she cared? Her hands made their ascent up his chest that caused his lips to part for air and one went further still to cradle the back of his head to press it firmly to hers.

"The rings of _Satárn_ are of rubble and I'd rather be with you in the freezing rains climbing a cursed mountain or in fields of sweltering heat. I love you more then any barren abyss."

A love that welled under the skin.

Where a hum became a hymn, so rousing. Reflecting starlight, so lustrous to be the envy of every star dotted above.

That set a another to burst in brilliant firelight and for all that bathed in it's beauty- every stalk, every blade and petal to flourish in magnificence.

"And I you, _mo prìseil Sorcha_. And I will -" Claire rudely, impatiently, boldly silenced Jamie with a kiss that he didn't seem bothered by as the roiling blaze sunk deep into their veins.

They saw one another in every flaw, every perfection They saw the span of their life intertwined past the time of Earth past the point of time where all that stood was he and her.

Even then we're they engulfed in whiteflames.

                                                                                    

                                                                                  _________

 

_And so it was that the night was long and peaceful. A gift bequeathed by the moon goddess herself, the keeper of all secrets for ones so deserving._

_They who sought eternity in a lovers embrace._

_A boy held his precious starlight close to his breast as consciousness stirred her to wake. A whimper was heard, a dreamy sigh responded and further they melted into one another with whispered reverences of love._

_Another sigh was heard as Ellen shut the door to the room filled with a gauzy glow._

_She was met with a crooked curious smile from her other half. With a shake of a head and wave of a hand, the red haired lass pulled 'Bhrians bare cheek, no beard to tug._

_No cinders to smother just yet._

_Ellen clasped her arms fiercely around his middle craving every lost touch as he crushed her to him as well. He rocked her back and forth where he reassured her again and again -_

_"We will have this day and many more to come."_

  
_Even if he be damned for it._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The gaelic word for the sun is A'Ghrian but there is no emotional attatchment there and rather than going between three names I switched the G to a B for Brian.  
> *Murtagh means Sea and skilled or skilled navigator which is close enough to water to be the suns opposite.  
> *The High God is Lord John Grey who isn't evil just a stickler for the rules!! I mean Bhrian sent the world to chaos what was he supposed to do. John also means grace and mercy. Very fitting.  
> *There is no scottish gaelic word for Saturn so I took it from the irish gaelic.  
> * And I always forget- Mo preseil sorcha is my precious light  
> I'm probably forgetting other tidbits too...
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for another late update. I had this outlined as fast paced and blunt when it was paired with the last chapter but separately just didn't work. So i had to rewrite this from the ground up and really struggled and drowned in the juggling act of two important conversations and emotions, when to be dramatic and when to be light... Urgh! I hope it all makes sense I tried to keep the essential stuff (I deleted alot of convo between Jaime/Bhrian and Claire/Ellen..)
> 
> And finally, THANK YOU to every single person who read this little fantasy story that I thought literally no one would read and to every kind comment i recieved.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the journey!!!

**Author's Note:**

> For a show about time travel there isn't a whole lot of fantasy here. So if this is stupid tell me, I'm fine with this staying in my head. If you like it leave a comment if you like. 
> 
> As always critique please. Every bit of writing I do is new territory for me.


End file.
